


The Kindness of Strangers

by The_Lionheart



Series: The Lot of Us Mortals [1]
Category: Marvel (Movies), The Avengers (2012)
Genre: AU, Amnesia, Bromance, Child Abuse, Hurt/Comfort, Male Friendship, Scars, Unwanted Sexual Advances
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-16
Updated: 2012-09-27
Packaged: 2017-11-02 01:04:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 36,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/363302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Lionheart/pseuds/The_Lionheart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He wakes up in a hospital room.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Lucas Wakes Up

**Author's Note:**

  * For [invictofiction](https://archiveofourown.org/users/invictofiction/gifts).



He wakes up in a hospital room.

He knows what a hospital room is. He knows that one of the machines hooked to his body is measuring his heartbeat- _there is a tube down his throat_ and he panics, and the beeping of the heart-monitoring machine goes wild. Nurses rush in and hold him down, sedate him, remove the tube and gently prepare him for the doctor.

The doctor finally comes in and takes a seat next to him, staring hard at him, as if trying to find something there. He blinks, curling his arms around himself, and asks, his voice ragged, “Why am I here?”

“You... were discovered, in a ditch, on the side of the road, with multiple head wounds,” the doctor tells him sternly. “You've been in a medically-induced coma for the past three months now.”

“That sounds... serious,” he says, after a moment. He tries a smile, looks down at his hands, and scrubs his palms over his mouth for a few seconds. “Why was I in a coma?”

“You required several surgeries to remove pieces of your skull from your brain,” the doctor tells him, leaning forward. “What _do_ you remember?”

He stares at the man until it becomes uncomfortable, until he can't meet the man's eyes anymore.

“I remember... things. That's a chair, and you're a doctor. I remember stars... I remember stories.” He closes his eyes, sucking on his lower lip. “ _For yards about the steps extended an insane tangle of human bones, or bones at least as human as those on the steps. Like a foamy sea they stretched, some fallen apart, but others wholly or partly articulated as skeletons_...”

He opens his eyes, frowning. “That... sounds unpleasant.”

The doctor frowns slightly, a finger on his chin. “Who wrote that?”

“It's... _The Rats in the Walls_ ,” he says slowly, looking down at his hands. “Lovecraft. I've read that story, I _know_ I have, it's like it's... it's there, if I look for it.” He looks up, fighting off a sudden surge of panic. “I don't- _you_ know my name, though, don't you, Doc? I mean- I had a, a wallet on me, didn't I? Some kind of... identifying papers, or something, right?”

“...you did,” the doctor says slowly, and gets up to pick up the man's charts. He sees a flash of an ID tag hanging from the white coat he wears, and the name means nothing to him, _Strange, Stephen_. It's alliterative, though, and he finds that oddly soothing. The doctor clears his throat, and for a second the man thinks he sees the faintest glow of pinkish light around his fingers. He blinks and the glow is gone, was never there, and that, actually, makes _sense_ , he's been in a coma with brain damage for the past three months, a little light hallucination is to be expected... 

“I _have_ a name, right?” he asks, going for playful to mask his growing worry, wondering what the hell is taking Dr. Strange so long to find the pertinent information. “I mean... I'm not just some, some John Doe in here, am I?”

“Lucas Blake,” Strange says, reading it off a paper. He leans over to show it to the man, who feels... nothing, no sense of relief or homecoming at seeing his own name. 

“...when is it going to start ringing bells, Doc?” he asks weakly, finally, and the doctor sighs.

“We're going to have to run a battery of tests to determine just how extensive the damage was, Mr. Blake. Don't... don't worry,” Strange says, barely loud enough for the man- _Lucas_ \- to hear. “We won't just turn you out on the streets, alright?”

“Alright,” Lucas says quietly, and he isn't sure why but he is overcome with the urge to sleep, and it's far too hard to keep his eyes open or his head up just yet.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

Dr. Strange, Lucas thinks, sure is _involved_ in his patients. He sees the man several times a day, whether it's to observe Lucas's grueling physical therapy sessions or to meet personally with him and quiz him on how he's going and what it is he remembers, which isn't much.

“How do you know my name?” Lucas asks once, after an hour of trying and failing to walk six feet without collapsing.

“It was written on the inside of your sneakers,” Strange replies softly, smiling a little. Lucas looks down at his pale, bare feet, and sighs.

Another day, Lucas crawls over and steals his charts from the foot of his bed, reading what little there is to say about him. Strange comes by later, while Lucas is messily trying to wrangle spaghetti noodles onto a fork, and Lucas looks up from his hopeless task, remembering something he'd read on the paper about himself.

“ _Approximately_ eighteen? So I could be older _or_ younger than eighteen?” he asks, and Strange shakes his head, leaning over to cut Lucas's noodles into shorter, more manageable sections.

“I sincerely doubt that you're younger than eighteen,” he says, but offers little more than a small smile when Lucas demands to know how Strange could possibly know that.

The nurses give Lucas a huge pen, the size of his forearm, and he practices forming the letters and words dancing manically through his head, until his hand cramps and his wrist aches. It's completely worth it, though, for the day that Strange walks in, a man just behind him, and Lucas holds up a paper, nearly breathless with excitement.

“ _Look_ , Doc! I wrote my whole name and you can _read_ it! That's got to be a champagne-worthy accomplishment, right?” Strange smiles at him, and the new guy- Lucas pauses, because the new guy's wearing dark glasses and is holding a white and red cane and Lucas knows that means the guy's blind. “...uh, hey, just so you know, Mister, my signature's gorgeous,” he informs him, and the guy snorts.

“Lucas, this is a friend of mine, Matt Murdock,” Strange says in that way of his that manages to be sweet and gruff at the same time. “He's a lawyer and, with his help, we're going to see about getting you some ID, okay?”

“Really?” Lucas asks, instantly curious, but this blind Murdock guy clears his throat.

“Nothing is set in stone, Mr. Blake... we need to exhaust _every_ avenue towards finding what, if any, legal records there might be out there,” and something in Murdock's voice makes Lucas worry a little, because he knows he's pretty much _homeless_ if he can't get proper identification, but Strange seems pretty confident.

Murdock sticks around, even after the nurses bring Lucas's dinner, and Lucas is extremely glad this blind guy can't see the way he struggles to hold the fork, or the way Strange has to help him with actually getting the fork to his mouth. It's nice that Strange does it, really, but it's also frustrating and exhausting.

By the time he's done eating, Lucas can barely keep track of what the man's saying, and it is with some embarrassment (but not a whole hell of a lot, because he suspects most people with brain damage have to go through this stage, and Strange has never acted weird about it) that he tips his head back and lets his eyelids droop closed, and whatever Murdock is saying is so muffled and pleasant that it merely ushers him further into sleep.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

The nurses bring Lucas paperback novels to read- Earnest Hemingway and Stephen King and the Bible and Shakespeare, Dan Brown and Terry Pratchett and Mary Shelley and Kurt Vonnegut. Strange brings him textbooks from the local high school- history and geography and calculus and biology, and once, on one of his rare visits, Murdock puts a hardcover copy of the complete works of HP Lovecraft into Lucas's lap. Lucas actually hugs the man's arm before he can remember himself, but he thinks he sees the guy actually smile on his way out.

By the time Lucas has been awake for five whole months, he's walking- on crutches, sure, but he can get all the way to the end of the hallway and back. Strange beams at him until Lucas thinks he might die a little, he's so happy and proud of himself. 

By the time he has been awake for a total of six, Murdock's apparently a _fantastic_ lawyer, because Lucas has a whole array of paperwork in front of him- social security card, New York state ID, a stack of forms that, as it turns out, tell Lucas that he's successfully gained a GED. 

“What is this?” Lucas asks shyly, and Strange smiles down at him, looking just a little too kind for that knowing expression to reach smugness.

“I took care of most of the paperwork, actually... and I might _know_ a few people downtown,” Strange adds, and Lucas grins at him.

By the time Lucas has been awake for eight months, he can walk with a cane and shave without help and he's learning to use chopsticks and Strange has a small, plain apartment arranged for Lucas to use. It's pretty close to the library where, thanks to Strange, Lucas has a part time job, and there's a nurse who comes in every day to check up on Lucas, morning and evening, and after the initial tour of the place Lucas sits down on the bed- _his bed_ \- and put his cane across his knees and feels totally humbled and bewildered and grateful.

“Why are you helping me like this?” he asks, and it's weird but it really is the first time Lucas has ever questioned this guy. At some point, Lucas knows, things went beyond what a doctor would normally do for a patient.

“Well... you don't really have anyone else, Lucas,” Strange says after a moment or two. “No family that we've been able to find, anyway. I don't have so many cases that I can't spend extra time looking after my patients, and you didn't have anyone else looking after you.”

Lucas blinks back tears, and grins a little. “Doc, you're- you're a kitten. You're a kitten made of marshmellows. Soft and sweet and- fuzzy.”

“That's enough of that,” Strange smiles, and gently pats Lucas's shoulder. “I'll help you unpack. Your first day at work is Monday.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Lucas's nurse is _Nina_ and his boss is _Bobbi_ and Strange actually meets the three of them downtown on the anniversary of Lucas Waking Up, which has become Lucas's unofficial birthday. They eat pizza and Bobbi gives everyone cupcakes and Lucas announces that he's all signed up to go to _college_ , there's apparently a degree you can get in _library science_ , and even though Lucas is legally nineteen he sips a little champagne and lets Strange help him get home. 

Lucas thinks he sees something- or someone- lurking outside his window, long after Strange leaves. It's impossible, of course, because there's barely any ledge outside that window and it's six stories up anyways. 

There's a card on his dresser in the morning- Strange must have put it there, after Lucas passed out- and it's from Murdock, expressing his congratulations. Lucas carefully shaves the stubble on his jaw, still failing _spectacularly_ to grow an impressive Van Dyke like Tony Stark. Lucas doesn't own a TV, but sometimes he watches clips of the news on his laptop, and the CEO of Stark Industries is always doing something super cool to get national press.

Lucas's walls are lined with bookshelves and his bookshelves are overflowing, with the books he got in the hospital and the books the library will occasionally give away. He's read everything in his little apartment twice. College is a challenge, but enough of his courses are online that he doesn't really have much of a problem with them.

Nina tells him he should try to get out more and Bobbi tries to get him to sign up for an online dating service, but Lucas resists their efforts. He's getting out when he has to go to work and to the store, and he's not really up for dating anyone, and he tells them that he's happy and it really _is_ the truth.

Lucas is shelving books and contemplating the shelves that seem to be nothing but books on the care and feeding of farm animals when he notices a kid staring at him- not really a kid, probably closer to Lucas's age than he looks. His hair is messy and brown and his eyes are wide and brown and for such a regular-looking guy, he's also frankly _adorable_.

And he looks like he's about to have a heart attack, which is mildly disconcerting, so Lucas smiles and leans on his cane a little to give the kid a wave.

“Need any help?” he asks, and the teenager takes a step back.

“Uh, no, I'm just- what are you _doing_?” he blurts, which takes Lucas by surprise. 

“Well... in general? Working, going to school, physical therapy,” Lucas says slowly, blinking. “Right now I'm just putting away some books about sheep. Apparently there's a lot to say on the matter.”

“Haha, okay,” the kid says nervously, and Lucas looks away, because it's suddenly awkward. He clears his throat, rubbing the back of his neck a little.

“Well... uh, I do work here, so if you need help finding anything, just give me a yell.” He pauses, then smiles shyly. “Or a really loud stage whisper. We _are_ in a library, after all.”

“Right, okay,” the kid says, still in that painfully nervous tone. After a moment, he sticks his hand out, looking a little like he thinks Lucas will bite it off. “I'm... I'm Pete, by the way.” Lucas grins, taking it gingerly and giving it a little shake.

“Lucas. So! You looking for something in particular, Pete?” Pete flinches a little, which is getting _real_ old, but he nods at the question.

“Uh, yeah, actually, but I- I found it, already. So I just have to do some homework.” He hesitates, gesturing a little at Lucas's cane. “What... uh, what happened?”

“I... think I was in a car accident?” Lucas blinks, because nobody ever did figure out what happened. “At least, they think that's what happened. Apparently I was in a coma for a while. I mean, my legs work fine, I just broke my brain a little.” And he smiles, because his life, despite this, has been great, so far as he can tell. Pete seems a little shell-shocked, which... Lucas sort of understands, actually. Most people in Lucas's position don't seem to end up doing as well as this.

“Oh, wow, okay, that's- _where_ are you from, again?” Pete asks, and Lucas has seen a few romantic comedies, so he thinks Pete might be flirting, but if he is, it's certainly the most awkward flirting he's ever witnessed firsthand. 

“Well- right now I live in Hell's Kitchen?” He asks because it seems- well, presumptuous of him to just _say_ it, it makes him feel like he's blandly announcing that he lives in Badass Apartments on Motherfucker Street. “I mean, I don't know where I was from before the accident, but that's where I live now. I take the train,” he adds, smiling. “What about you, Pete?”

“Oh, uh- Queens, I'm from Queens,” Pete babbles, and then looks weird and cagey for a moment. This conversation gives Lucas a small headache, so he clears his throat and leans on his book cart.

“Okay, well... it was nice meeting you, Pete, but I really have to get back to work now,” and that's that. Lucas does think he sees Pete around every so often afterward, but it's beyond embarrassing to go up to some cute young guy and ask him if he remembers that time you were both awkward in the library together.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

Lucas is curled up on a small, comfortable chair with his laptop, finishing some of his coursework, when someone clears their throat behind him and he turns awkwardly to look. It's Pete, a bunch of crazy-big textbooks under his arm- _Applied Quantum Physics_ and _Advanced Genetic Theory_ have their spines towards Lucas. He grins faintly up at Pete.

“You're stalking me, but it's okay because you're actually a _genius_ ,” he says, and Pete laughs a little. “What's up, Pete?”

“Just doing some homework, uh, Lucas. Are you working?” he asks. Lucas motions him over, and he takes a seat nearby, perching in the chair as if ready to jump right back up again.

“It's my day off, but it's a nice place to do my homework, too.” Lucas and Pete meet gazes for a moment, and they both try an awkward smile at the same time. It's stupid, but it gets them snickering (quietly) and when they fall back into silence it's not at all awkward, merely the sound of two people doing their homework in the library.

It becomes their thing- once a week, sitting quietly, not really talking, but as time passes Lucas feels more comfortable with the idea of having a friend his age. Lucas is almost disappointed by the time the semester ends, if only because the break from class means no excuse to hang around doing homework with Pete.

But, as it turns out, Pete manages to make time for Lucas anyway- they start going to the park instead, eating hot dogs and feeding ducks. Sometimes they talk about school or the news, but it usually ends up being a conversation about books or movies or music they like. Pete is actually really funny, once he opens up to Lucas a little. They get coffee and hang out on park benches, or get ice cream and play chess, Pete's hands gently guiding Lucas's fingers over the small pieces.

The sun is setting, a slight chill in the air as they people-watch, and Lucas inhales sharply as he is hit with a sudden thought.

“Pete, are we _dating_?” he asks, panicking, because he does like Pete and he thinks Pete's cute and all, but they're friends and that would be- that would be really _weird_. Pete almost drops his hot pretzel, eyes huge.

“Uh- no, I don't think so- I mean, we're cool and all, I don't- I just, I have a girlfriend and I thought- I just thought it was nice hanging out, you know, and not getting shushed every time one of us feels like talking-” Pete stammers, and Lucas breathes a sigh of relief.

“No, man, it's cool, I just- I don't know what it's like, I've only seen it in movies,” he explains, although he's not sure why Pete would make such a pained expression at that. “You know, the whole... montage where they start hanging out and doing fun stuff and most of the shooting happens in one day so they cram all kinds of stuff at the same location so if you're not paying attention, it looks like these people were dating for sixteen hours straight and then got engaged.” 

“And- we look like a dating montage?” Pete echoes, sounding a little dazed. Lucas shrugs, tossing a piece of his pretzel at a duck.

“Well, kinda. I think if we ever went on a carriage ride we would for sure,” Lucas reflects, licking mustard off his fingers. “Or if you brought me flowers while there was an impromptu concert behind us, definitely.”

“Why do I have to bring _you_ flowers?” Pete asks, wrinkling his nose. “ _You_ should be bringing me flowers, I'm adorable. And _broke_ , don't forget broke.”

“Well, okay,” Lucas grins, glancing fondly over at the other student. “Tell you what, I'll bring you flowers, you arrange the carriage ride, and-” Then some ducks come waddling over, and whatever Lucas means to say to Pete gets lost in the moment. That's alright, because the only thing that matters is that they are friends and it's all cool.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

“I don't think you can take this on the train with you,” Pete says carefully. Lucas is leaning heavily on a cart, eyes huge as he takes in everything that is the IKEA store for the very first time. 

“But I like it,” Lucas repeats, petting the cool bed-over-desk contraption as if it is a skittish animal. “And then I can move the bed I have over to one side and then, you know, if I have friends over they can sleep there.” Pete hesitates, glancing briefly at Lucas's cane.

“Can you- _can_ you climb the ladder, Luke?” he asks, and Lucas... isn't sure if he can or can't, but he shrugs a little.

“Can't hurt to try,” he says cheerfully, but he knows the look on Pete's face- it's the same one he wore when Lucas got the idea that he could probably take one of the ducks home from the park and let it live in his bathtub. It's actually a lot like the look Doc got when, back at the hospital, Lucas tried to suggest that Scrubs had a background in medical fact and that he needed a box full of kittens. So Lucas sighs and edges away from the bunkbed, his shoulders slumping a little. His hair is getting long, and Pete must notice, because he reaches over and ruffles it a little.

“You need a haircut,” he says, sounding a little more serious than he ought to. “Don't you get your hair cut somewhere?”

“I don't think so,” Lucas replies, feeling a little faint, because it's- it's _nice_ , physical contact has never been much more than the warm but clinical duties of doctors and nurses, or the gentle help he's gotten from Doc or Mr. Murdock or Pete, and it's practically _extravagant_ , and that makes Lucas feel... off. He shrugs a little, focusing on a stack of bright, boxy bookshelves. “I think the last time it got cut was in the hospital, when Doc was getting me cleaned up for my state ID picture.”

“Oh,” Pete says, glancing at some wicker chairs. “You should probably get your hair cut, though. Don't want it getting too long, it'll make you look like-”

“A rockstar,” Lucas says firmly, nodding decisively. “And once my Tony Stark beard grows in, I will be the most attractive man in the city.” Pete actually starts choking at this.

“Oh god, oh jesus,” he wheezes, looking at Lucas like he's lost his mind. “No. No, Luke, okay, please, no. Tony Stark is a douchebag. You don't want a douchebag beard on your face. _Everyone will assume you're a total douchebag_.”

“That's gross,” Lucas informs him loftily. “And Tony Stark is super cool. I wouldn't mind growing up to be a billionaire. I could build a mansion and we could fill the pool with money and just, you know, swim around in money. I will bet you five dollars that Tony Stark has done that.”

“I know for a _fact_ that he's done that,” Pete grimaces, handing over a five dollar bill. “Seriously, Lucas, you look fine without a beard. Even your stubble has a very nice, innocent look to it, and you'll ruin your babyface if you grow that beard. And it's called a Van Dyke, actually.”

“I know what it's called,” Lucas replies, fingering a neat little lamp with a growing smile. 

It's later and they're sitting and eating meatballs and sipping tea when Pete glances over at him, as if struck with a sudden thought.

“How do you have an ID if you don't remember who you were before the accident?” he asks, and Lucas shrugs, concentrating on spooning up some mashed potatoes.

“I had a good lawyer? Well. The surgeon in charge of putting me back together had a good lawyer.” Lucas shrugs again, using his spoon to cut a meatball into quarters. Pete asks to see his ID, and after a moment of fumbling Lucas hands it over, because- despite Strange and Nina repeatedly telling him not to trust so easily- it's just about _impossible_ for Lucas to just assume that someone might have less than noble intentions.

Pete just looks at the ID for a few minutes, before tucking it back into Lucas's wallet.

“Who's the guy who got this for you?” he asks, and Lucas glances up at him. Pete's face is unreadable, which is weird- after months of friendship, Pete is usually an open book to Lucas.

“You need a lawyer, Peter?” Lucas quips, his smile fading when he realizes that Pete is actually kind of serious about this. “Uh... guy named Murdock. Some friend of my doc's.” Pete nods, just a little, and it's all a little weird and Lucas is about to ask what the hell this is about, but Pete stands abruptly and when he comes back, he has cookies, so Lucas figures it must not be all that important.

Pete is quiet for a while, but he comes over to Lucas's place- he's been there before, so it's not that big a deal- and helps Lucas put his new shelves together and assemble his cute new lamp, and they drink some tea because Lucas is a bit of a fanatic about it. Pete promises, before he goes, to take Lucas to get a haircut, and asks him to please, _please_ shave before he starts actually looking like Tony Stark.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Lucas gets up in the middle of the night, to use the toilet and because he had a dream, something he can't remember now, but he thinks it was pretty good. He rummages through his fridge until he finds some Greek yogurt, carrying it over to his desk to eat while he reads. He has a nice new book of short stories, so he could probably blaze through one or two of them while he polishes off his late-night snack.

His desk faces the window, though, so it's only natural for him to look up when he spots movement outside. Lucas is almost unsure of what it is he's looking at, before his mind supplies him with a few snippets of information from pop culture and the news.

_Spiderman_ is hanging out across the alley, literally _hanging_ off the side of the building, and perched on the fire escape next to him is _Daredevil_. Lucas's mouth goes dry, because in all these months of living here, he's never actually seen any of the superheroes who live in the city before, at least not this close up, so Lucas does what anyone would do. He dives for his phone and snaps a picture- only it's blurry, because his hands are shaking and the glass of the window is slightly dirty. 

He opens his window and leans out a bit, so engrossed in trying to take a better picture to show Pete that he doesn't notice at first that both of the masked men have turned to look at him, apparently noticing the commotion. The picture is less blurry, but the light is bad and, on closer inspection, Lucas realizes that the heroes moved. 

He looks again for them, but they're nowhere in sight.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

A week passes, and when Pete takes him not to a salon or barbershop but to a small, pleasant little house in Queens, Lucas is... confused, but happy, because he's never been to Pete's house before. A sweet old lady answers the door, ushering the two of them in and fussing about wanting to feed them before Pete clears his throat a little.

“Aunt May, could you cut my buddy Lucas's hair the way you do mine?” he asks, and she immediately starts puttering around, complimenting Lucas's hair, _it is lovely, dear, but a haircut will make you so very handsome_. Lucas blushes and sinks down into the kitchen chair, and it's _nice_. 

Lucas feels strangely, happily _at home_ with Pete and his old Aunt, and the haircut ends up looking a lot like Pete's, exposing more of the scars on Lucas's scalp than he would have thought. He rubs the back of his head, a finger tracing a line where Doc must have stitched him up, looking into the small bathroom mirror and thinking that he's been _really, really lucky._

 


	2. Lucas and People

Eighteen months after he woke up in a hospital bed with nothing in his head about who he is or where he comes from, Lucas sits down at his little desk and compiles a list. He titles it _Things I Know About Myself,_ carefully numbering each little section.

  1. _My eyes are light green. They make me think of minty toothpaste._

  2. _My hair is almost black but sometimes when it's sunny, I see other colors in it._

  3. _I do not tan. I get sunburns and freckles. I have freckles on my nose and on my shoulders._

  4. _I am a librarian and I am going to school to be an even better librarian._

  5. _My friends are : Pete, Doc, Bobbi, Nina, Mr Murdock, and Pete's Aunt May._

  6. _My favorite color is the color of the sky when it's about to storm._

  7. _My favorite thing to eat is the pizza Pete gets when he comes over sometimes._

  8. _My favorite thing to drink is sweet hot tea and also coffee with lots and lots and lots of sugar._




Lucas stares at the list, tapping his pen against the paper of his yellow legal pad for a few seconds.

_9\. Sometimes I dream about dragons and monsters and knights in shining armor, and sometimes I have nightmares about falling and falling forever._

_10\. If I could date any celebrity it would be a toss-up between Tony Stark and Alison Blaire. Is it shallow? They are both lovely and have interesting talents._

_11\. I never really noticed until recently that I am scared of heights. I think partly this is because I normally use elevators._

_12\. I've never been kissed._

_13\. I am left handed._

_14\. I like all of the Muppet movies._

_15\. I really, really like making lists of things._

Lucas taps his pen against his mouth, wondering if he should just leave the list at fifteen. He could certainly think of more things about himself, though, so he decides to jot down a few more.

_16\. My favorite t-shirt was a gift from Pete. It's kind of a gray-purple and has a drawing of Modock (?) on it, and it says that I'm chillin' like a villain. It's comfy and it makes me think of Pete._

_17\. Pete's Aunt May knitted me a blanket and it is the best blanket._

_18\. Once I got mugged, but it happened to be the day I didn't have my wallet on me anyways, so they pushed me around a little and ran off. It was just some kids, though, and I didn't want Pete to worry about me, so I told him that I tripped and fell over some books. I kind of think he didn't believe me but he didn't push it either._

_19\. I love Pete._

Lucas stares at the last line, breathing through his nose. He feels like he is on the verge of remembering something, the shape and weight of it resting on the tip of his tongue, before he very carefully leans down and adds, _like a brother_.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Lucas keeps the list in a desk drawer, and takes it out sometimes when he is feeling upset or angry about things. It helps him keep things in perspective, it helps him remember to be grateful for what he has, and it's kind of soothing to read- almost like a mantra, over and over again, until he's calm and happy again.

He meets a nice girl named Annabeth at the library, and they go on three dates- two double dates with Pete and Mary-Jane, and one that's just the two of them, going to a local small art gallery together. Afterwards, they go back to his place and make out on his bed. He's desperate to _touch_ her, to _taste_ her, and he's pretty sure he's _never_ been this hard before, in his entire life. She peels his jeans off and makes a _face_ , and Lucas can feel something cold sink through his heart and into his stomach. Dread closes his throat and he can actually _pinpoint_ the moment when his erection ceases to be.

“What _happened_ to you?” she asks, tracing the thick, jagged scar, one of several, that runs down the front of his left hip and across his pelvis with her finger.

“Car accident,” Lucas says quietly, blinking. “Annie- look, if it freaks you out, it's okay, you don't have to, I mean, I can still-” And he leans forward, his hands on her waist and his lips on her throat, and she really _does_ make- well, she makes _some_ attempt, at least, her face turned away so she doesn't have to _see_ , gingerly palming a dick that just won't get hard again. She doesn't let him take her pants off, angles herself away from his hands, and he's never felt more _useless_ in his short life. Annabeth finally pulls away, not quite meeting his eyes.

“Luke, I'm sorry,” she says, and he stares up at her, not sure what he's hearing. “I really should be going-”

“But- Annie, _wait_ ,” he pleads, and the face she makes at that is even worse. Humiliation burns straight through him as he fumbles with his jeans and tries to follow her, but she is out of his apartment before he can stumble to the door to his bedroom. The door slams and he sinks to the floor, too shocked to even register what he's feeling or why.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The scene that greets Pete the next afternoon is pretty bad. Lucas is huddled on his couch, wearing a bathrobe and socks and nothing else, sobbing into the last of his mint chocolate chip ice cream and watching _50 First Dates_ on the modest TV he owns. Pete winces, looking around- Lucas had, in a fit of pique, knocked all of his books and DVDs off of his bookshelves and had scribbled a large, angry _MY DICK IS BROKEN_ on the wall in black permanent marker. Lucas smells like sweat and alcohol, and there are exactly two beer bottles on the small IKEA coffee table, because Lucas is kind of a lightweight.

“So I take it things went badly with Annabeth,” Pete begins, and Lucas sniffles. “How badly, _exactly,_ did it go?”

“I... she- we were kissing, you know, and also, we had our shirts off and, you know, _boobs_ ,” Lucas says, pausing the movie as Adam Sandler makes an awkward, horrible face.

“I know about boobs. This seems to be the opposite of bad so far,” Pete says cautiously, and Lucas curls his arms around his midsection.

“She took my pants off and she-” Lucas's mouth shuts and his face crumples, and after a moment Pete sits down next to him and puts an arm around his shoulders. “I guess I never really- I never stopped to think that most people aren't going to _like_ that I'm all scarred up in that... general area, and she got grossed out.”

“Oh god, Luke,” Pete sighs, squeezing his shoulder. “That's really- that's really _shitty_ of her, she sucks.”

“No, Pete, it is I who sucks,” Lucas moans, his face dropping into his hands. “Because she gave me a second chance anyway and my dick wouldn't _work_ anymore. I'm- junk and garbage and _nobody will ever love me ever_.”

“That... uh,” Pete says, gazing blankly at the wall for a moment before setting his jaw. “That's not true, Lucas, and you know it. You're a great guy and an amazing friend.” He gives Lucas a smile, plucking the empty carton of ice cream out of his hands and putting it on the table. “One day the right person's gonna come along and they're gonna see all the wonderful things that make you who you are.”

“That's a lovely thing to say, thank you,” Lucas snuffles into his sleeve, peering up at Pete for a moment. “How did you get to be so cool, Pete?”

“I'm like the opposite of cool,” Pete argues, standing up to see if there's anything he can do for the mess near the bookshelves. “I'm a total geek. I walk through the door and the entire building gets put on Nerd Alert.” Lucas snickers a little, and flops down onto the couch, taking up the space Pete left behind with his arms thrown dramatically over his head. After a moment of undetermined rustling, he hears Pete clear his throat.

“Number twelve on this list of you-stuff is wrong, dude,” Pete says carefully, and Lucas groans and kicks a throw pillow.

“That's _private_ , you're not supposed to see that. Pretend you didn't read it,” he mutters, pouting at Pete's brief chuckle. “Laugh it up, fuzzball.”

“I think we've already established that I'm the Han in this relationship,” Pete said, nudging Lucas's elbow. “And you need to edit this thing, because you and Annabeth kissed. I mean, I'm assuming you did, if it got to the point where she's ripping your clothes off.”

“I don't think it counts if the other person doesn't like you,” Lucas mutters, sniffling. “I don't want it to count. They say your first kiss is the one that _haunts_ you for the _rest of your life_.”

“Oh, for- Luke, move your arms,” Pete sighs, and when Lucas lowers his arms to fold sulkily over his chest, Pete leans down over the side of the couch and kisses him. His mouth is soft and his eyes are open and Lucas doesn't know what to make of that, and after a few seconds he pulls back. “Count that one so I can cross number twelve off the list, buddy.”

“Sure,” Lucas blinks, confused. “Not that I- but MJ-”

“I think she'd understand the need to erase something crappy with something good,” Pete says, digging for a pen in the mess. “She'll probably tell me to do it again, but with her here and recording video.”

“I like your girlfriend,” Lucas says immediately, and Pete cackles a little bit, shaking his head.

“She likes you too. Do you care if I use a different color ink?” he asks, holding up a blue pen. Lucas shrugs.

“Probably better to use different colors for edits and new additions. Eventually I want to have a hundred items on the list.” Lucas thinks for a moment, narrowing his eyes. “...no tongue? Seriously?”

“You look like the Dude right now, so no,” Pete replies, carefully crossing out the twelfth item and writing next to it, _I have had my first kiss_.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Things _do_ get better. School goes well for Lucas, work is still rewarding, and his coworkers at the library are all warm and pleasant, even if he doesn't exactly count them among his friends. Lucas hangs out in the coffee shop down the street from the library, because the coffee's good and he can afford it now, and the pretty blonde barista gives him cookies on the sly.

Lucas sits at the small tables and reads the paper every morning, skimming over world and national news, drinking his second and third cups of coffee as he pores over local news and the weather and culture pieces. He nurses his fourth cup of coffee as he does the crossword and the sudoku puzzles- he doesn't usually finish the crossword, because he doesn't always understand the clues, but the sudoku is easy enough to do.

It's a nice routine, and the daily ritual- placing his order, sinking into a chair near a window, dissecting his newspaper, drinking enough coffee to raise an army- is soothing, it helps ground him and helps him prepare for the rest of the day ahead.

It's not clockwork, obviously. Sometimes the tables near the windows are full, or Joan who gives him cookies is out sick, or the last paper has been bought. Not clockwork, but close enough.

Once everything goes exactly right and Lucas is just about finished when a shadow looms over him and a man comes up to his table, too close to be anything but confrontational. He's wearing the nicest three-piece suit Lucas has ever seen and he kind of looks like a badass Santa Claus, long white hair in a thick ponytail and a big white beard and an honest-to-god _eyepatch._ Lucas has only a few seconds to take it all in before the man leans closer.

“I am sorry,” he says, and he sounds it, he sounds _heartbroken_ , and Lucas squirms and is _vividly_ uncomfortable. “I am _truly_ sorry- I never intended for you to be hurt, I never intended for you to lose everything that you have lost, I merely wanted to _teach_ you-”

“I think you have the wrong person,” Lucas says, alarmed and desperately trying to flag down a barista's attention. Joan's eyebrows go up and she starts walking over, but there are people in the way and creepy Business-Santa is still talking about _humility_ and _respect_ and _knocking sense back into him_ , and he's got the most intense gaze Lucas has ever seen and he talks like Lucas should _know_ him.

Lucas is worried, mostly for this guy's sanity, and a little scared of being hassled, because this guy is huge and _obviously crazy_ , but the guy talks like Lucas should _know_ him and Lucas feels _nothing_ for him.

“Who are you?” Lucas blurts, interrupting an impassioned plea to come back to this guy's place, which is gross, and the guy looks at him with that intense, one-eyed stare for a moment before actually _wilting_ , like a giant manly flower.

“I-” he begins, and Joan the Barista swoops to the rescue at that point, god bless her.

“Sir, is there something I can help you with?” she asks, a slight edge to her voice, and the big old guy just sort of shakes his head and steps aside.

“No, thank you, I- I seem to have-” He leaves, although really, the word Lucas would use is _flees_. Joan scowls after him, before slipping a chocolate mint cookie onto the table near Lucas's hand.

“You okay?” she asks him, and he shrugs, more bewildered than anything else.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Later that day, after he gets home from work and has finished his homework, Lucas curls up on his bed in his Captain America pajama pants and wraps himself in the blanket Pete's Aunt knitted him. He has been feeling weird and off, ever since what happened with the old guy, and after a few minutes of trying to figure out what he's feeling and what he wants he picks up his cell phone and hits the first number on his speed dial.

Doctor Strange picks up after a few rings, his voice always a little different, a little richer and more _real_ than everyone else's voice over the phone.

“Yes, Lucas? Is there something I can help you with?” he asks kindly, and Lucas bursts into tears without even knowing why.

“I just- I just wanted to hear your voice,” he sobs, and after a few seconds Doc starts talking, in that soothing voice of his, telling Lucas about his day. After a while Lucas calms down enough to actually participate in the conversation, and by the time he hangs up he feels content and happy again.


	3. Lucas's Gift

Lucas is tired of seeing the message about his dick scribbled onto the wall, and no amount of cleaning it himself has yielded much progress, so he decides to go looking for cool vintage posters to put on the walls instead. He finds a nice thrift store wedged between a record store and a deli, and it's not too far from the Daily Bugle, so he sends Pete a text with the address and a short message, _decorating my apt, need ur discerning eye, after work?_

Pete's reply takes less than a minute, _sure thing_ , and Lucas grins at his phone before heading inside the thrift store, even though he's pretty sure he'll have more luck in the record store.

Inside, Lucas is just a little overwhelmed at the mess, at the chaos, but it's also... it's also cool and exciting, and he spends almost an hour just looking at things- well, and touching them. In Lucas's defense, Pete picks the worst time of all to come strolling up.

“Hey, Lu- what,” he stops short, staring down at Lucas's chest. Lucas isn't sure if there's anything in the world he can say to explain why he's wearing what looks like a bikini top made out of pieces of the Iron Man suit over his shirt, but he tries anyway.

“If you push this little thing here they light up,” he begins, and Pete actually looks like his brain is trying frantically to erase everything, “and there's a little short-shorts part, and that part lights up-”

“Please tell me this isn't the reason you asked me to come here,” Pete chokes out, adding quickly, “And for the love of all that is holy, take that off, please, I might actually die.”

“I don't know why you dislike Stark so much, he's probably almost as smart as you are, so you'd be bound to get along in person,” Lucas says reasonably, putting the Ironette top back into his basket.

“It's not that, I just- no, please, let's not even go there,” Pete almost whimpers, and Lucas grins.

“You're a trooper, Pete,” he says merrily, picking up a terrifying, two-foot-tall statue of a maniacally grinning monkey carved out of teak.

“No, Lucas,” Pete sighs, glancing over. “I guarantee you don't want that in your apartment. You had nightmares for a week after the Planet of the Apes marathon.”

“That was supposed to be our unspoken secret!” Lucas gasps, scandalized- but also putting the monkey back on the shelf where it couldn't see him.

“I'm pretty sure our unspoken secret is that we both secretly want to have sex with Jareth,” Pete replies absentmindedly, poking at a partially balding Furbie.

“That's not even a secret, and that's also pretty much _only_ you,” Lucas mutters, picking up a silver-plated spoon the size of his shin. “Okay- what is this for? What could you possibly eat with this, it's bigger than most gardening tools, so...?”

“It's just for decoration, Luke, unless they say property of Giant Man on them, in which case, who knows?” It's actually not that impossible to find relics of the Avengers and other heroes, since so many of them have lived in New York for so many years.

“You know what would be cool? If they had some of the Captain America propaganda posters,” Lucas says brightly, peering inside a battered Cabbage Patch Kids lunchbox. “The library has a couple of them, I've always admired 'em. I mean, there's a website you can buy new prints off of, but I like when they look a little bit older, you know?”

“Yeah, like, more authentic?” Pete guesses, and returns Lucas's beaming smile with one of his own.

“Totally. Hey, speaking of... authentic, sorta, next Sunday I was thinking, you wanna go to that Korean barbecue place we went to last month? You, me, MJ, I might be able to talk that guy from IKEA into going...?” Lucas blinks as Pete's face registers surprise for a moment, and then he shakes his head a little.

“I can't, Luke. I'm- next Sunday is Father's Day, me and Aunt May are going to hang out and maybe say hi to Uncle Ben,” Pete says, very softly, and Lucas looks down for a moment.

“That's... that's cool, you do need to spend more time with her, she's great,” Lucas nods, before asking, tentatively, “Father's Day, that's... I mean, it doesn't have to be your literal father, right? It can be... anybody you care about in that kind of a way, I guess?”

Pete looks at him, and maybe his face is a little weird, but he nods and pats Lucas on the shoulder. “Yeah. You could give them a card or a tie or something that, you know, shows them that you care about them.”

Nodding a little, Lucas lets the matter drop. Eventually they head over to the record store (after Lucas buys the Ironette costume, that thing is priceless) and Lucas does find a few posters to hang up, and they eat at the deli and Pete complains about his boss and if they're not entirely in the conversation, well, neither of them really minds.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Sunday morning comes and Lucas looks down, at the small bag dangling from his wrist, where it keeps swinging against his cane, and at the huge bouquet of mostly white flowers in his other hand.

Ringing the bell to Doc's house is going to be on the rough side, but Lucas thinks he'll figure something out. His nerves are practically _twanging_ , he's so tense, but it's mostly the _good_ kind of nervous.

He's just coming up the street when he sees two guys leaving Doc's place. The taller one is as skinny as- well, about as skinny as Lucas is, with shaggy brown hair and thick glasses, and the shorter one is built like a golden godly statue or something, with sandy blonde hair.

Lucas doesn't have time to process what color his eyes are, because his entire brain is telling him to look at _those arms omigod arms arms arms_.

“Oh, hi, could you get the bell for me?” he asks cheerfully, when they both stop and actually start gaping at him. Lucas looks down at himself for a moment- it's been a long time since he left the house with his fly open, but you never know when it's going to strike- before deciding they must have some weird ideas about who the flowers are for.

“Uh, if it helps, they're for Missus Strange,” he says, waving the bouquet a little, a petal or two floating to the ground. Taller guy looks terrified and shorter guys looks like he's looking for places to put a bullet. Lucas can actually feel his eyes ( _blue, okay_ ) searching his body, his cane, his stupid green knockoff polo shirt, his slightly frayed jeans, his stupid dumb orthopedic sneakers. Lucas clears his throat, glancing at Strange's front door. Well, he should be able to get up there and manage it, he was going to do that anyways.

“What the _hell_ are _you_ doing here?” Taller guy finally speaks, and it takes a minute for Lucas to realize he's being addressed. He sounds a little strangled, as if he's choking to death on his fear. Lucas checks his fly again, because you really never know.

“It's... none of your business?” Lucas tries, and sees right away that it isn't going to stand up. Patients don't just up and _do_ stuff like this for their doctors, these guys are probably Doc's _real_ friends, and he's suddenly, sharply aware that maybe Doc should have just stayed professional and stopped caring that Lucas existed after he left the hospital. This probably looks _bizarre_.

Lucas almost throws up on his shoes, which would make them the third pair he's done that to. Both of these guys are glaring at him now, and he should just go and pretend he was never here and Doc would never have to _know_ , right?

“Lucas, what a pleasant surprise,” a lady says from the door, and Lucas almost dies of relief at seeing her friendly face, because he actually _adores_ Clea and he doesn't think he can stand much more of these two men here. He limps up the steps as quickly as he can, because she's European and does the cheek-kissing thing he really likes. “And are those for me?”

“Of course,” he beams, handing over the bouquet. “Do you like it? I can get you a different one, if you don't like it, I got it from the florist down the street from where Mr. Murdock lives, he told me they have good suppliers, that kind of sounds like a drug deal, though! I mean, suppliers, who even uses that word, couldn't he just say gardeners like-” She puts a finger to his lips, smiling kindly, because he gets really, really _gabby_ when he's around her and when he's nervous and right now, those two guys on the sidewalk are still giving him the stink-eye.

“They're lovely, dear. And you'll be wanting to see Stephen, then?” she prods, glancing over at the two in the street. “Is there anything else?” Clea directs her question at the guys, and the blonde one pipes up behind Lucas.

“Yeah, it seems we suddenly remembered that we have a huge piece of _unfinished business_ we need to discuss,” he snaps, and Lucas almost wants to run away, before this turns into an even bigger debacle.

“I'll just- uh- drop this off with the Doc,” he mutters, limping over to where he knows Strange's drawing-room is, he's been here before. He opens the door and jeez, Strange looks exhausted, but he gets up from his chair with a smile that almost steadies Lucas.

“I'm sorry,” Lucas blurts, before he can say anything. “I should have called ahead, I wanted to surprise you but I didn't think you'd be busy, that was _really_ inconsiderate, I'll be out of your hair in a minute,” he babbles, feeling caged, feeling _trapped_ , even though he's been here a dozen times and it's never been anything but open to him.

“Nonsense, Lucas, you're always welcome here, you know that,” Strange says warmly. His dark eyes search Lucas's face for a moment, nothing like when the blonde stranger's gaze raked over him, and Strange tilts his head a little. “What ails you, my friend?”

“I- nothing, I just-” Lucas fumbles with the gift, holding it out until Strange gently takes it from him. “It's for- it's for you, I saw it and I thought-”

He doesn't know if he wants to see or hear Strange's reaction to it- it's probably not even real silver, but it's a tie pin and Pete had said tie pins were also okay, and it's a little human brain and it was so cool and perfect for the Doc, being a neurosurgeon and all, that Lucas doesn't care if he'll be a little late on his rent next month. But he doesn't want have to hear Strange tell him that it's really not appropriate to be receiving presents from ex-patients, and he's already thinking of how to escape when Strange finally, _finally_ speaks.

“Thank you, Lucas. What's the occasion?” he asks softly, and Lucas trains his eyes on his shoes, shoulders hunching slightly.

“Well, I- well, it's Father's Day,” Lucas says quietly, steeling himself for the kind, but inevitable, rejection. “Because- I know it's mainly for people who are your father, but it's also for, you know, father figures, like uncles and, uh, I know I'm probably not... not what you'd say- but, I just...” He looks up to the ceiling, inhaling heavily before continuing. “You mean a lot to me, and I thought...”

“Lucas,” Strange says quietly, and before Lucas really knows what's happening he's enveloped in the sleeves of that weird smoking jacket Strange wears around his house, big strong arms are holding him tightly and it's actually more than okay to hug him back and press his face into the man's chest.

“You are an exceptional young man,” Doc says quietly, over Lucas's head, “and it is an honor to be held in your high esteem.” He pats Lucas's back a little, and the hug ends, leaving Lucas feeling all warm and fuzzy and a little weepy. “This is one of the most touching things anyone has ever given me, Lucas. I'm going to treasure it always.”

“Aw, Doc, I bet you say that to all your amnesiac former patients,” Lucas grins, and Strange gives his shoulder a squeeze.

“No, Lucas. Just you.” Lucas feels happily, stupidly special, and it's almost startling to come back to reality when Strange adds, “What was bothering you, earlier?”

“Oh,” Lucas tries to dismiss it with a shrug, “I just- I ran into your friends outside, and I got the impression they didn't... like me very much?”

“I see.” Strange's face tells Lucas nothing, so Lucas goes for asking a question that has been pestering him underneath his anxiety.

“So, uh, Clea got the door, where's your butler guy?” he asks, and Strange smiles at him as they head back out to the foyer where those other guys were hanging out with Clea.

“Wong's had a bit of a rough year so far, I gave him some time off to visit his family in the Himalayas,” Strange tells him, even though the two guys from the street stiffen and the taller one makes a strange, almost calculating look as he eyeballs Lucas again.

“Mind introducing us to your _friend_?” the blond asks, sounding... personally betrayed, although by what Lucas had no clue.

“Clint,” Strange nods at the blonde, before directing his gaze towards the brunette. “Bruce. This young man is named Lucas, and he's a very dear friend of mine. Lucas, these two are Clint and Bruce, and they're also friends of mine.”

“Oh, uh, I mean, hi,” Lucas says dutifully, sticking his hand out. Bruce takes it, slowly, and gives it a brief shake before Clint grasps his hand, a little harder than is comfortable, but hey, it is also over quickly and Lucas can _probably_ use his hand later tonight if he gets bored. “Um, I'll- I'll just go and say goodbye to Clea, it was really- thanks for everything, Doc.”

“Yes, Lucas, thank you,” Strange sighs, and for a moment, just as he's leaving, Lucas feels really, really guilty for leaving him.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Lucas probably isn't the most attentive person out there. Even Mr. Murdock is generally more observant than he is, although Lucas has noticed that he's generally more observant than anyone else, so maybe that's not such a good comparison.

But still. If a legally blind guy has to keep you from getting run over by a stampede of alien roosters (god, the Avengers drew in some weird types) then, no, you're not going to win the “Notices Things” award.

The problem is that Lucas is _noticing_ things. It starts a couple of days after Father's Day, when he is walking through some bookshelves after the library closes. Just for a few seconds, he thinks he hears footsteps behind him.

A few days later, he's at the coffee shop, and he's sure he hears someone following him as he leaves.

By the time he gets home Sunday night, he's almost not surprised to see a few signs that someone has been in his apartment. After checking around for signs of his mysterious intruder, though, Lucas can't find any evidence that they're still around. Just to be on the safe side, Lucas calls Pete up and begs him to come over, just in case they come back.

It doesn't take Pete long at all to get there, and they stay up watching zombie movies most of the night, until Lucas falls asleep on the couch, arms tangled around Pete's waist.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

“ _-didn't think we deserved to know? Didn't you think his brother deserved to know- after everything he did to the world, to us, to Thor?” Shouting. Unpleasant._

“ _I didn't know, not for sure, and neither do you! Coincidences happen-” Also shouting, what the hell?_

“ _Not to us, kid. Never to us. If he looks, talks, and acts like-” A duck, haha. Ducks are great._

“ _He doesn't! You know what he does act like? He acts like a- he's just a guy who's going to school and work and doing normal things, okay?” This is a dream. Lucas knows it's a dream because now, instead of disembodied voices arguing with each other, adorable ducks are fighting about... something. Someone. In a vague way, Lucas is aware that he's here, he's present, floating around in space, watching the ducks from above. Just as vaguely, Lucas is aware of someone next to him, someone comforting and strong and just out of his field of vision._

“ _And he's the fucking god of lies, how do you not see that this is all just one big act?” The person next to him puts a hand on Lucas's back, and he feels calm and content and not at all distressed by the shouting voices anymore. It occurs to Lucas that only one person is always there for him, always there to comfort and calm him._

“ _It's not an act! I've known him for a year, he's never once done anything even remotely- god, just listen to yourself, this guy spent three months in a coma, he spent eight months in a hospital crapping into a bedpan, he works at a library, for-” Lucas feels himself lean into Doc a little, can even smell that goofy smoking jacket._

“ _So that just makes up for it, then? He's paid his dues for thousands or millions of people's deaths because he had a rough couple of years?”_

“ _That's not who he is anymore, Hawkeye. He doesn't- he doesn't know anything about- he's not that person anymore. He deserves a second chance- you of all people should-”_

“ _I think that's enough of that,” Doc whispers to Lucas, his voice- as always- more real than anything else. “I didn't intend to drag you with me into the astral plane. Are you going to be alright?”_

“ _As long as the ducks quit fighting down there,” Lucas murmurs, even as the other voices fade. Doc laughs, just a little, but it's not a mean laugh, and for a moment Lucas feels utterly safe._

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

“Hey, Lucas, I've got to run, I have an early class,” Pete's voice is gentle, a little muffled, and Lucas makes a soft keening noise and gropes blindly until his hand snags on Pete's tight t-shirt.

“Nooo, stay with me. I had a weird dream,” Lucas whines sleepily, tugging a little. “Did you carry me to bed, Pete? It's comfy. Don't go.”

“I gotta,” Pete whispers, gently pulling Lucas's hand off. “But I'll see you tomorrow, if you want, okay?”

“Mmkay,” Lucas yawns, pulling his blanket up to his ears. “Love ya Pete.”

“Love ya too, Luke,” and Pete sounds so _tired_ , it doesn't even make sense, he should be sleeping right now, Lucas would scoot over and share the blanket. He mumbles something about Pete not having to leave, but he can't stay awake quite long enough to listen to himself say it.


	4. Lucas and Capes, Part 1

Lucas is shelving books at the library when someone clears his throat behind him. Lucas is brave and cool, so he doesn't almost drop his book out of startled terror. He almost drops the book because the book suddenly becomes slippery somehow.

It's Doc's friend Bruce standing there behind him. Lucas blinks at him, and they both sort of stare at each other before Lucas hisses in a breath.

“ _You're_ stalking me?” he asks abruptly, and Bruce winces.

“Well- not _stalking_ , per se, just-”

“You were in my apartment?!” Lucas hugs the library's copy of _A Horticulturist's Guide to North American Lichens_ , which is surprisingly thick, considering. “You moved my DVDs around and everything!”

“No- well, yes, but that wasn't me, it was Clint,” Bruce tries to explain, which only makes it _worse_ , in Lucas's opinion.

“Oh, _no_ , please, I don't _want_ to be a zombie sex slave,” Lucas whimpers, backing into the shelves. Bruce is actually startled by that, his mouth sagging open before his eyes narrow behind his glasses.

“Why in the _world_ would you assume _that_?” he demands sharply, and Lucas sniffles a little.

“I saw a documentary about Jeffery Dahmer. And you people are stalking me and breaking into my house and I don't want to die when I haven't even decided what kind of fish to get for my new tank,” Lucas says, but Bruce looks mildly interested in that, so Lucas adds, “Yeah, like, I like the idea of pretty little reef fish but, I dunno, I think a marine tank would be harder to take care of, and I also like koi fish? So, I mean, big decisions there.”

“That's- yeah,” Bruce says, and steps closer, which puts Lucas on edge again. “Look- Lucas, right? Clint and I are just- we're just trying to figure out if this is _real_ , if we can trust you or if we can't.” He looks like there are a lot of things he wants to say, and it _scares_ Lucas. He scuttles to the side, latching onto the book cart.

“Hey, here's a thought,” Lucas tries to edge slowly away, but he's edging too slowly to actually put any distance between them. “I don't even know you. You saw me once because I was visiting my friend, who, _I guess_ , is a mutual friend. That doesn't give you the _right_ to- to decide if you should trust me, because I don't trust _you_. And I'm sure when you're not being creepy murderers, you and Clint are nice people, but I just- I just want to be left _alone_.”

Bruce stiffens at that, his eyes narrowing a little, and Lucas wonders if anyone would come running if he yelled. But Bruce must see something in Lucas's face- probably not something badass- and his expression softens a little.

“Let me see your wrist for a moment, Lucas? Please.” Lucas bites his lower lip, wanting to tell him to forget it.

“You're not going to cut me, are you?” Lucas asks instead, and Bruce shakes his head no, so Lucas obediently holds out his arm.

Bruce presses something that looks like a watch that's identical to the one on Bruce's wrist against Lucas's pulse. It starts beeping steadily, which Lucas finds sort of intriguing.

“What's your name?” Bruce asks softly, and Lucas blinks at him, the curious beeping watch put on the backburner for the moment.

“Lucas Blake,” he says, frowning slightly before adding, “Doc told you my name when we met, didn't he?”

“Yes, he did,” Bruce says calmly, his eyes focused on Lucas's in a way that was kind of creepy but also weirdly calming. “Stay focused, Lucas, please. Have you ever met Clint or myself before two weeks ago?”

“No, I don't think so,” Lucas says, but then, thinking hard, he adds, “Unless you were at the library looking up all that business law stuff in May?”

“No, I was not,” Bruce murmurs, and he does have nice eyes but Lucas is a little uncomfortable with staring straight into them like this. Bruce hesitates for a few seconds, before asking, “What do you know about the Cosmic Cube?”

“I don't _go_ to nightclubs,” Lucas informs him, and Bruce glances at the wristwatch thing for a moment before sighing and putting it back into his pocket.

“Lucas, look... Dr. Strange really, really believes that you don't remember anything from before you woke up in the hospital room. And I think... I think I'm inclined to believe it, too.” Bruce hesitates, looking as though he doesn't want to say the next thing. “I think... I think Clint and I know who you used to be.”

Lucas actually gapes, fumbling for words for a minute before finally asking, “You- you know me? Or you used to, I mean?”

Bruce shifts his weight a little, not meeting Lucas's eyes. “Well. A little bit.” Something in the way Bruce says it makes Lucas pause, cold worry squeezing his heart a little.

“...you kind of say that like it might not be the best thing,” Lucas says cautiously, and Bruce shakes his head a little. “I don't understand. Am I an illegal immigrant? Because, y'know, I noticed that my accent sort of sounds like that big bald mutant guy upstate and I don't think I'm a mutant, but maybe if I'm not from around here it would explain why I didn't have any ID or anything when they found me after the car accident? But it's okay, right now, because I do have papers now, from a lawyer and everything.”

“I don't want to say, not when we're not even a hundred percent sure you are who we think you are,” Bruce says slowly, fumbling in his pockets before handing Lucas a small business card. “Look... I think you're trustworthy enough to let you decide how to deal with this, okay? If you really want answers- even if they might not be answers you _like_ , even if there aren't any answers to be had at _all_ \- come to this place, okay? It's a lab, and we'll be able to run some tests to find out who you... might be.”

“I don't want to go to your house by myself,” Lucas says quietly, and Bruce nods.

“That's okay, Lucas. When- _or if_ \- you're ever ready for it, just... come to the lab, and we'll look for those answers together. Okay?” Bruce smiles, and it's kind of awkward but it's also kind of nice. Lucas is worried now, more than ever, but he thinks this guy is probably not a murderer, and despite having a lot of weird, disturbing things to say he does seem to be a genuine, sincere person.

Bruce goes to leave, but he stops himself, turning to add, “If you really are the person Clint and I knew, well, ah...” He almost looks guilty, for a moment, which Lucas finds _peculiar_. “If you're him... we know some family of his. Yours. If you're him, I mean.”

“Oh, wow, okay,” Lucas says, and pockets the card. “Well... that's... it's kind of a lot to take in right now, but... I'll think about it, okay?”

“Okay,” Bruce agrees, smiling again before he leaves.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Lucas eventually decides _not_ to go to this place, because it's all skeevy. He doesn't even tell Pete about it, mainly because- well, Pete would probably get a little mad at him for believing a stranger who admitted to _stalking_ him and _breaking into his apartment_ , and not calling the police or anything. At any rate, Lucas is too excited about his weekend with Peter to really think too much about the unpleasant conversation in the library.

Pete takes Lucas to the aquarium, mostly because Lucas wants to get in the _mood_ before going and buying some fish for his tank. It's nice to just wander around and look at things. Lucas likes the otters and the sharks and sitting on the ground to watch the jellyfish, and after a while he gently nudges Pete's hand.

“Hey, Pete? Do you think I could get a-”

“No, Luke,” Pete murmurs sleepily, “you need a special kind of tank for those. The filter in your tank would suck a jellyfish up and kill it.”

“Oh _man_ ,” Lucas breathes out, horrified at the thought. They spend a few more minutes gazing happily at the amorphous, brightly-colored creatures, before Pete stands and helps pull Lucas to his feet.

“Come on, let's go down to the gift shop. I want to get MJ one of those stuffed sharks,” Pete suggests, but Lucas shakes his head a little.

“You go on ahead, Peter. I want to see the walrus part again. I like walruses,” Lucas adds, and Pete grins.

“I know you do. I'll come back and get you when it's time to go home, alright?” Pete ambles off in one direction and Lucas heads in another, because walruses are _great_. There's only one other person sitting on the bench near the habitat, and she's a little girl who doesn't take up much space at all, so Lucas sits at the other end, glancing curiously over at her. Her black hair is in pigtails and her t-shirt has a picture of a walrus on it, and she's hugging a well-worn and much-loved stuffed walrus to her chest. She catches him looking and grins, both of her front teeth missing.

“Walruses are _great_ ,” she tells him, and he nods enthusiastically. He mostly listens as she rattles off all kinds of facts about walruses, his eyes on the graceful behemoths as they sit around or move sometimes. Because he is listening to her and to the music of the Arctic wonderland, he doesn't hear the strange tapping noises that some of the other patrons notice.

He does notice when a wall explodes inwards, pelting him and his walrus friend with rubble. Lucas's first instinct is to pull the girl to the ground, the bench partially shielding them both as a large man wearing a big cape and a... a fishbowl on his head storms in, smoke curling around him. There are crazy lights flashing everywhere, and weird noises, and it's driving the little girl into a panic.

“Shhh, shhh, it's okay, sweetie,” Lucas whispers to the girl, because she's crying for her mom now and people are screaming. Lucas thinks he can see the girl's mom, though- there's a frantic-looking woman searching for something a few yards away, and they look enough alike that Lucas puts his finger to the girl's lips and points towards the lady. “Is that your mommy, honey?”

She nods, and when Fishbowl's back is turned Lucas helps her up and she runs straight for Mom's legs. Unfortunately, one of Fishbowl's henchmen is watching from the shadows, and snatches Lucas's little friend up with one burly arm, her skinny legs flailing wildly in her absolute terror.

“Wonderful, a _hostage_ ,” Fishbowl laughs- okay, Lucas really needs to pay more attention to the criminals who live here, because he's pretty sure he's seen this guy in newspapers before and he knows he has a _name_ \- and the henchman starts carrying the struggling girl closer to the man. “This will make everything so much easier when it's time for us to leave.”

Lucas's eyes widen, because the girl is crying and shrieking and the mom is screaming but nobody is actually _doing_ anything, and he isn't at all sure how this is happening, but he knows that if that little girl disappears somewhere with these men, they'll be lucky to _ever_ find her again, much less _alive_ , and he might just be a nerdy kid with no past, but what the hell, there's self-preservation and there's doing what's right, and these two things don't always intersect.

“Hey, put her down,” Lucas calls out, struggling to his feet. His knuckles are white around the handle of his cane- that sudden fall really messed something up, his ankle feels _weird_ , but he tries to project that he's actually a lot bigger and taller than he looks.

“Oh, look, a _hero_ ,” Fishbowl sneers, turning to look at Lucas- and he stops, he stops _everything_ , putting up a hand to silence one of his goons. He walks over to Lucas, which makes Lucas nervous as hell, but hey, he's not here to be cowed by anything but the wonders of the sea.

“You,” Fishbowl says, and it almost sounds like he's smiling. “You're looking... rather _pathetic_ , aren't you?”

“That's rude,” Lucas says, because right now his brain-to-mouth filter is evaporating with the tension of the situation. “I mean- I'm- put her down,” he tries again, forcing himself to use his “ _I am a grownup and you will return your books on time_ ” voice.

“Or what?” Fishbowl sneers, Lucas can _definitely_ hear a sneer in there, and then he actually puts a gloved hand against Lucas's chest and _shoves_ , hard enough to knock him sprawling. “Why should I do _anything_ you say, little man?”

“Let her _go_ ,” Lucas wheezes from the ground, sitting up. This is actually pretty _good_ , Lucas thinks, because if Fishbowl is standing around talking, then maybe the police will get here before he leaves. Or even right after he leaves, but close enough to _catch_ him. That would be fine, too. Lucas wobbles to his feet, not taking his eyes off the faceless glass in front of him.

“I think not,” Fishbowl laughs a little, which really annoys Lucas. “I would be a _fool_ to take orders from a _dead_ man.”

“Oh _jeez_ , I'm gonna get murdered by a guy wearing a spandex onesie,” Lucas hears himself say. Appalled, he realizes that Fishbowl hears it, too. Lucas really, really wishes he could have come up with something cooler and braver for his last words. Fishbowl gets in _close_ , leans in _closer_ , and Lucas flinches when he puts a hand on the crook of Lucas's neck, right where it meets the shoulder.

“Is this any way to speak to your old _friend_?” Fishbowl asks, running his thumb against Lucas's throat. It's too much, it's too _weird_ , it makes Lucas want to _gag_.

“I don't _know_ you,” Lucas breathes out, trying very hard not to vomit. “ _Literally_ I don't know you, I don't watch enough of the news to even remember your name, but it's probably something _stupid,_ like, Cosmic Ray or Malefacto or-”

“Mysterio,” Fishbowl says slowly, his hand tightening around Lucas's throat. “ _Fascinating_. You look rather worse for wear, but I'd _never_ forget... and now here you are, and here I am, and you're actually _powerless_ to stop me. This... this is actually _quite_ wonderful.”

“Don't,” Lucas coughs out, his fingers scrabbling for purchase on Fishbowl's glove. Mysterio's glove. Whatever, it's a stupid name and Lucas doesn't want to see his own stupid sheep face reflected back at him in his last few moments of being not-dead, so he makes a real, concerted effort to turn and look at the little girl, because if he has to die in a stupid way, at least it wasn't for a stupid reason.

“What, _oh what_ will I do with _you_ , Mr. Odinson?” Mysterio asks softly, almost to himself. “There are, after all, a lot of people who would pay quite a lot of money for the chance to get a little _payback_ out of that skin of yours-” It makes no _sense_ to Lucas, and it doesn't even matter much, really, because something just snatched up one of Mysterio's goons, and the same thing- a blue and red blur, really- takes the goon holding the little girl out of Lucas's line of vision, and before Mysterio (Lucas misses calling him Fishbowl, for some reason) can say any more creepy nonsense there is suddenly a spray of thick, sticky spiderwebbing across the bowl, and the fishbowl is actually yanked right off Mysterio's shoulders.

He drops Lucas and tumbles to one knee- and he's just a _guy_ , under all that, brown hair, brown eyes, kind of an ugly guy but no more so than average- and Lucas thinks he feels a little better for it. That might just be because that blurry figure is definitely Spiderman, though, and the friendly neighborhood superhero is pummeling Mysterio.

There's not a whole lot of talking, which is weird, Lucas always heard that Spiderman liked to talk a lot, but whatever. Lucas just sort of crawls over to where the girl and her mom are crouching, and flops down onto the dusty carpet near them. The girl puts her little hand in Lucas's hair, petting him like a cat, but he's just so _tired_ and he honestly doesn't mind.

“You were really cool, mister,” she tells him, and Lucas finds it in him to beam at her.

“Not as cool as a walrus, though,” he mumbles, and she grins, and everybody's okay, so maybe Lucas will be, too.

The fight is over pretty quickly, and Spiderman's just checking on a couple of injured people and making sure that the goons are safely tied up, when Lucas realizes that _Holy SHIT, Pete is just downstairs and is probably worried out of his mind._

Lucas digs out his phone and dials Pete up, just to let him know he's okay.

Something at Spiderman's hip starts emitting Elton John's voice, crooning, “ _Hold me closer, tiny dancer-_ ”

Lucas just looks at Spiderman for a moment, ending the call before any more of the song can play.


	5. Lucas and Capes, Part 2

Pete is there, in Lucas's apartment, when he finally gets home after being checked out by the paramedics. Pete looks worried, sitting on the couch with his hands on his knees, and Lucas hesitates before going and sitting down on the far end, leaning his cane against the small coffee table.

“That guy sprained my ankle,” Lucas starts softly, and Pete makes an angry little sound under his breath. Lucas looks over at him, feeling blind and hurt, feeling _stupid_. “How come you didn't just _tell_ me? Does Mary-Jane know that you- does Aunt May know?”

“Oh, Lucas,” Pete sighs, shaking his head a little. “No, neither of them knows about... Spider-man. Look, Lucas, it's not that I didn't _want_ to tell you, okay? It's just that...” It's his turn to look lost and hurt, biting his lower lip. “Lucas, I thought it would be _safer_ for you if you didn't know. My first girlfriend, Gwen... _she_ knew. And she'd come and we'd hang out while I was, you know, patrolling or whatever, and I guess people realized that she was important to me, to _Spider-man_ , and she was murd-” Peter's voice stops working, and Lucas scoots over, putting his arms around Pete and holding him for a minute. Pete presses his face against the side of Lucas's neck, and whatever else happens, Lucas knows how important Pete is to him, and he knows the feeling is mutual.

“I _can't_ lose anybody else,” Pete whispers, and Lucas doesn't want to let go. After a few minutes Pete sniffles and gently pushes Lucas away, and they both sit there in awkward silence for a moment before Lucas rubs his hands together, feeling horrible.

“Well. I guess I have a confession to make, too,” he says in a small voice, and pulls Bruce's card out of his wallet.

“What's this?” Pete asks, clearly glad to have a change in conversation.

“Couple weeks ago, right, I went and visited my friend, Doc, the one who fixed me up?” Pete nods, recognizing him from stories Lucas has told, and he continues, “I was at his house, okay, and there were these two guys there, a guy named Clint and a guy named Bruce.”

“Dude, those are totally _cowboy_ names,” Pete interjects, sounding a little impressed.

“I know, right?” Lucas's smile fades. “Few days ago, Bruce snuck up on me at work, and he said- well, he said him and Clint were stalking me? And Clint was in my- he was _here_ ,” Lucas adds, looking around to see if he might spot the blond guy lurking somewhere. Pete's expression changes quickly, and it's not anger or annoyance, like Lucas always suspected- it's recognition and guilt, which immediately worries Lucas.

“Bruce told me he thinks him and Clint know who I used to be,” Lucas says quietly, playing with the card. “I didn't really believe him, because it's skeevy, right? But...”

“But?” Pete asks gently, reaching out and taking Lucas's hand.

“Mysterio acted like he knew me, too,” Lucas whispers, his heart pounding in his chest. “He kept touching me and it was _weird_ , and he acted... surprised, I guess, to see me? And he called me-” Lucas frowns a little, shaking his head. “Something weird. Not Mr. Anderson but kind of sounds like it. I don't know.”

“I _hate_ that guy,” Pete seethes, and Lucas smiles tentatively, curling up against Pete's side. “He didn't- oh god, he didn't, like, _touch you_ touch you, did he? I'll-”

“Not like that,” Lucas says quickly, barely suppressing a shudder. “No way. He just had his hands on my neck and did the creepiest possible version of choking me.”

“Oh sure, just relatively harmless _strangulation_ ,” Pete hisses, pulling an arm protectively around Lucas. “Oh my _god_ I hate that guy.” Lucas huffs out a laugh, feeling like they're getting away from the conversation a little. Pete noses against Lucas's hair, and for a minute it just seems like they're going to be okay. Pete turns the TV on and it's that Undercover Boss show about bosses who go undercover, which Lucas likes.

After watching a CEO make a hamburger and cry about it, Lucas gently knuckles Pete in the ribs.

“Ow, what?” Pete asks, gazing obliviously at the screen.

“Pete, you think I should go to that Bruce guy's house and let him figure out if he really does know who I am?” Lucas asks, and Pete hesitates.

“You _already_ know who you are, Lucas,” Pete says softly. “And I don't want some guys who don't even _know_ you trying to decide that you're somebody else.”

“You're the coolest, Pete,” Lucas yawns, and Pete shrugs a little.

“You keep using that word,” he mutters, “I do not think it means what you think it means.”

“There's a shortage of perfect breasts in this world,” Lucas counters, then giggles helplessly.

“You always mess that one up, Lucas, you gotta learn to say breasts without breaking your brain. _Again_ ,” Pete chides gently, and gets another knuckle to the ribs.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

It's two hours later and Lucas is falling asleep during a commercial-heavy airing of _Ferris Bueller's Day Off_ when Pete's phone starts buzzing and playing _Shoot to Thrill_. Both of them give it the same terrified glare, before Pete gingerly picks it up.

“I don't know this number,” he says slowly, frowning. “ _And_ I don't know why it's playing AC/DC. Lucas, did you do something to my phone?”

“No,” Lucas responds, mystified. “Put it on speaker and find out who it is? Maybe it's a sexy lady. Or a sexy dude.”

“They might be a creeper,” Pete reminds him, carefully answering it and putting it on the table. “Hello, who's this?”

“Spiderman, right?” asks a man, and Lucas and Peter exchange horrified glances.

“Um, no?” Peter tries, and the man sighs.

“There are six videos making the rounds right now of you and your interesting choice of ringtones, Spidey, and it wasn't all that hard- for _me,_ anyway- to triangulate the exact position of the phone in question and then hack into it. You're welcome, by the way, for the kickass new ringtone.” The man sounds way too smug and cheerful, and also vaguely familiar, for some reason. Peter puts his finger to his lips, signaling to Lucas to stay quiet, a resigned expression on his face.

“Look, I don't know who you are, but-” Pete begins, before the guy interrupts him.

“Listen, we're not going to drag you in or anything, but we do want to talk to you. It's about that guy you rescued in the video-”

“What _about_ him?” Peter asks tightly, gripping the couch cushion until his knuckles go white. Lucas slips a hand onto Pete's shoulder, and he does relax, just a little. The guy on the phone is quiet for a minute.

“He's right there with you, _isn't_ he?” The question is surprisingly gentle. “Lucas, right? Listen- Bruce is a friend of mine. The address on that card? You should come in. We can help you, we can keep you _safe_. What happened at the aquarium today is only going to happen _again_ now that people have seen your face and know you're still alive-” Peter flings his hand out and throws the phone against the wall, so hard that the phone actually explodes a little.

Gaping, Lucas turns to look at Pete, standing there redfaced and shaking.

“It was totally freaking me out,” Pete admits, and Lucas nods and takes his hand. Pete closes his eyes, and it distresses Lucas to spot a glimmer of moisture in his thick eyelashes. “I know this sounds crazy, I know he's... he might even be _right_ , but I just... what if they're not _good_ guys, Luke? Or what if they- what if they decide you're somebody you're not, what if they lock you up or something?”

“I know,” Lucas sighs, and hugs Peter, because he really, really looks like he needs it. Lucas drags Pete to the kitchen and they eat all of Lucas's ice cream sandwiches, which doesn't make them feel as good as they think it should. Lucas is contemplating the likelihood of making Peter spend the night when he looks up and throws a wadded napkin at Pete, who snatches it out of the air.

“Dude, okay, _where do your webs come from_?” he asks plaintively, and Pete grins a little.

“I'm a genius, remember? I invented a chemical formula for the webbing, and then I invented these kickass webshooters I wear on my wrists that, you know, shoot'em.” Lucas nods, super impressed.

“You should be a billionaire already,” he says, and Pete shrugs.

“Yeah,” he starts, but something clearly bugs him to the point that Lucas is starting to worry for Pete again. “...Lucas, if the guy could hack my phone just from knowing that I _had_ a phone- he probably knows how to find _you_.”

“Oh,” Lucas hunches his shoulders a little, and Pete comes over and puts his hand on Lucas's back. “Pete... I should probably go in there, huh? Otherwise they'll just come and get me.”

“I don't know, Luke,” and Pete sounds just as miserable as Lucas feels. “I don't know what to do. Being Spiderman means I have to be responsible, but I just- I just want you to be okay.”

“You want to go with me?” Lucas asks, raising his eyebrows. “If they're scary, you can Spider-swing me out of there.”

“Websling,” Pete corrects, then sighs. “If you think you have to go, then I'm going with you, Luke.” They manage the _weakest_ of high fives, before Lucas goes in search of a clean shirt.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

“Oh my god,” Pete whispers, his voice slightly muffled by the Spider-man mask. “Luke, your stalkers are the Avengers. That's the Avengers Mansion.” Lucas is too busy hiding his face against Pete's shoulder to glance over- they are _way_ too high for Lucas's liking, _he does not like webslinging_ , at all.

“Yeah?” Lucas asks anyway, and he can feel Pete nod enthusiastically.

“Yeah. I mean- I knew one of them was tailing you, but I thought he was just being a creeper by himself. This is... all of the whole avenging Avengers,” Pete finishes weakly. “And I'm actually _technically_ wanted by the feds, and they used to work for the feds, and now they're going to lock _both_ of us up.”

“They won't lock us up, Pete, you'll use your spiderwebs on them,” Lucas reminds him. Pete just groans and squeezes Lucas to him.

“I'm gonna land us on that balcony there, okay?” he asks, and then there's another terrifying minute of falling and swinging and Lucas wanting to throw up all of the ice cream he had earlier, and then Pete is gently easing him down onto something and there is a horribly bright light shining on them and Lucas looks up.

Iron Man is walking carefully towards them, some kind of weapon trained on Lucas, and the part of his armor that looks like a face flips up and _Tony Stark_ is looking at the two of them like he doesn't know whether to laugh or shoot.

“Oh, look, it's Tony Stark,” Lucas says weakly, before throwing up all over the Iron Man boots.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

“Hi Lucas,” Bruce says very carefully. Lucas sniffles and hugs his backpack to his chest. At least they let Pete stay with him, but he's still stuck in a weird little room on an examination table. Bruce clears his throat, looking down at his clipboard.

“Well. So far we can definitely report that you're _definitely_ human,” Bruce begins, and Lucas gapes at him.

“Did you... think I somehow wasn't?” Lucas asks, and Bruce shrugs.

“There were... options,” he says diplomatically.

“Like a mutant?” Lucas asks hopefully, but Bruce shakes his head.

“Can't we go now? He's just a guy,” Pete says miserably. It turned out that Iron Man ( _Tony Stark saw me in my Coney Island t-shirt_ , Lucas wails mentally, _Tony Stark saw me barf_ ) was standing right in front of Hawkeye, Captain America, and Black Widow when Lucas vomited on him, and Hawkeye started laughing _so hard_ at that, both Pete and Lucas sort of shrank down into slightly shorter versions of themselves.

“Spider-man,” Bruce says gently, and it occurs to Lucas that Bruce _knows_ Pete's just a kid, he must be able to _tell_ somehow. “Lucas is in serious danger because of what Mysterio did. Even if he's _just_ a guy, there are people out there who are going to try to find Lucas and hurt him. It really is better if we can keep him here for a while.”

“How long is a while?” Lucas asks, panic bubbling up in his throat. “What about my job? What about school? I didn't _do_ anything to anybody!”

“I don't know the answers yet, Lucas,” Bruce said simply, his eyes searching Lucas's face. “Some people would like to come in and talk to you, and it'll help us figure out where to go from here. Do you think you can handle that?”

“Only if he can stay with me,” Lucas says softly, and Pete squares his shoulders and crosses his arms and manages to look pretty menacing next to Lucas. It's probably the suit and the mask, because Pete's practically the _same size_ as Lucas.

“I think that'll be fine,” Bruce says, cocking his head to the side. He goes back to the door and opens it, gesturing to two people just outside. “Come in, guys. Lucas, this is Captain America and this is Thor.”

Captain America is just as cool as Lucas's action figures are, and he gapes at the man for a moment before looking at Thor. Thor is... he looks kind of _terrible_. His eyes are red and puffy and he's moving really slowly and carefully, as if he doesn't know what to do with himself.

“Um, hi,” Lucas says, sticking his hand out. Captain America shakes it briefly, his expression softening somewhat, and Thor looks at it like it might bite him and doesn't touch it. Lucas slowly and awkwardly draws his hand back, wishing he could just leave already, just go to Doc's house and not come out for a month.

“I saw the videos of the attack at the aquarium,” and wow, Captain America sounds like a really nice person. “You were very brave to try to help that little girl. Is she a friend of yours?”

“No?” Lucas thinks for a moment. “I only just met her. We both like walruses, and then the wall exploded.”

“I would have words with you,” Thor says, and the voice that is always so loud and cheerful on TV is very quiet and scared. “If I may.”

“That's... okay?” Lucas sees Captain America and Bruce exchange a worried look behind Thor's back, and Pete's hand squeezes his shoulder.

“You are-” Thor closes his eyes, takes a deep breath. “You are happy?” Lucas blinks, taken aback. From the looks of things, so are Captain America and Bruce and even Pete, a little.

“Yeah,” Lucas says slowly. “I have friends, and a job I really like, and I'm in school and it's... it's nice. I go to IKEA a lot.”

“Do you...” Thor fidgets, and it would be _weird_ if it didn't break Lucas's heart a little. “Do you remember ever having any family? Any- brothers?”

“No,” Lucas says softly, glancing over at Pete. “But I feel kinda like I have one.”

Thor hesitates, looking even more miserable, before asking, “Would it be alright if I were to embrace you right now?”

Lucas blinks, holding out his arms. “You look like you need a hug.”

It is simultaneously the best and worst hug Lucas can remember ever getting, warmth and strength and the broken sound of a weeping god.


	6. Lucas and Capes, Part 3

Thor ends up asking a lot of questions- what does Lucas like, what's his favorite color, why does he need a cane, is he truly friends with the Man of Spiders? After a while, Thor just takes Lucas's hands in one of his massive mitts and starts telling Lucas stories about his best friend. There is a lot of traveling around and riding horses and mythical creatures in these stories, and Thor _really_ seems to love his friend. Pete sits down next to Lucas, and they both end up really enjoying the stories- Thor is actually a really good, really hilarious storyteller, even when he's been crying.

Bruce comes and goes, although Captain America lingers around for a while, and at some point a gorgeous young woman with thick, curly brown hair and cute glasses comes in with a box of Poptarts. Lucas and Pete split a single packet- they're s'mores flavor- and Thor demolishes the rest of the box. The girl tells Lucas her name's Darcy, but after a warning look from Captain America she slinks out of the room, muttering about the unfairness of the situation. Lucas wonders if it's considered bad form to check her out as she walks away.

So totally _worth_ it, though.

Thor catches Lucas's eye, and they smile, and it's... nice. Lucas would actually like to hang out with Thor sometime, if he didn't think Thor was insanely busy fighting bad guys and being a prince or a god or whatever he is.

“So your friend,” Lucas prompts, shifting closer. “Does he still live back on Asgard? Do you get to hang out with him much nowadays?”

Thor blinks rapidly, and Captain America sort of tenses up, but he's got a box of tissues in one hand, so Lucas feels _instantly_ bad for asking.

“He... no,” Thor says quietly, his voice cracking a little bit. “We had a falling-out. Despite our closeness, I had never really taken the time to realize that he had to suffer through many trials, and that he did so _alone_. He grew to resent me for my inability to recognize anyone's feelings but my own. Then I was away during an emotionally painful time for him, and when I came back... he snapped.”

Lucas blinks, because this is almost a familiar story to him. He's pretty sure he's seen it in a movie. Possibly _St. Elmo's Fire_? He'll have to check. He'll have to have a movie marathon with Pete. They could invite Thor and Tony Stark and MJ. Lucas could try to impress Tony Stark with his collection of not-creepy memorabilia.

“We fought,” Thor continues, his voice heavy, “trading blows on the Bifrost Bridge. It is- it _was_ the bridge between worlds, hanging over the endless abyss. It was both foolish and reckless of us to do so, but he was _desperate_ and I didn't _understand_. There is _much_ about that night that I wish I could take back, or do differently.”

“What happened?” Pete asks, and Lucas is glad it was him, because his throat is tightening and if he says anything, he'll start crying. It is a very sad story, made even sadder because Thor's so upset about it. That's probably why Lucas's heart feels like it's being squeezed right out of him.

“He fell,” Thor sighs. “I caught his hand, but he... I suppose he felt as though there was nothing left for him, not in Asgard, not in _me_. He let go, and I could not catch him again.” Captain America puts a hand on Thor's back and holds out the tissues, which Thor takes.

Lucas is crying, silent, burning tears streaming down his face, which is _weird_ , and he uses his arm to wipe them off, but he also cannot breathe, he can't inhale _at all_ , he's gasping and choking with a sudden crushing terror that is ripping into him, giving the sadness places to take hold.

“Luke,” Pete says urgently, and they're all _crowding_ Lucas and it's just _way_ too much, after everything that's happened in the past few days, _it's too much_ , it's worse than when Mysterio had his hands around Lucas's neck, because at least _then_ Lucas knew what was killing him and _why_.

“Please,” Lucas sobs, embarrassed to be seen like this, to be this upset and to not even know what was causing it. “Please, I just need- I just need a moment alone, I need my phone, I need to call Doc, please, just-”

Thor puts his hands on Lucas's shoulders, and Lucas sort of flinches back, it doesn't hurt or anything, but it makes the awful feeling in his chest worse.

“Leave him _alone,_ ” Pete says, and he sounds terrified but he's so brave that Lucas wants to hug him forever.

“Loki-” Thor starts, and Captain America takes Thor's shoulder and none-too-gently pulls him away.

“No,” he says firmly, and the silence after that is broken by a frustrated sigh. “No, Thor. Lucas is right. We need to give him some space. Spider-man, come with me, please. We're just going to give Mr. Blake here a few minutes to compose himself and then we'll grab some sandwiches. We'll... we'll figure out what to do after that.”

“I don't want to leave him-” Pete says, folding his arms over his chest. “I don't want to leave him alone with you guys. He's-”

“It's okay,” Lucas says softly, his throat feeling ragged. “It's okay. I just... I need to think about stuff for a minute.” Captain America herds Thor and Pete out of the room, pausing in the doorway to look at Lucas until their eyes lock.

“I just think you should know, Lucas,” he says softly, “we all think you're a good person. No matter what, we just want you to be safe and happy.” Terror grips at Lucas's heart again, and he nods frantically until the Star-Spangled Man leaves, gently shutting the door.

As soon as he's alone Lucas digs into his backpack for his phone, hitting the speed dial.

“Lucas, what's-” Doc begins, but Lucas can't bear to tell him what's wrong.

“Doc- _who am I?_ ” he wails, fisting his hand against his eyes. “Why is this happening? I'm _scared_ and I don't know what to do, I don't know why I feel like, like I'm just crumbling up into, into sand or something. And this guy Thor is _crying_ and it makes me cry and I'm scared and everybody's acting like I'm somebody else, Doc-”

“Calm down, Lucas,” Doc says quietly, his voice taking some of the edge off Lucas's hysteria. “Where are you? Are you hurt?”

“No, I'm not hurt, I don't think so, I'm just... everything,” Lucas sobs dryly, scrubbing at his eyes.

“Tell me what's happened, and tell me where you are, please,” Doc tells him, and for some reason Lucas feels better because of it. He tells Doc about everything- the aquarium, Mysterio, the weird phone call, Pete bringing him over to the Avengers tower, and then Thor and all his stories and crying. Doc listens, and then he very calmly tells Lucas to wait _exactly_ where he is.

A few minutes later the door bursts open and Doc storms in wearing a _cape_ , of all things, and even though he feels so great at seeing him that he runs up and throws himself at Doc in a hug, Lucas _knows_ there's no such thing as coincidences anymore. Thor is trailing after him, and a man in a suit, and Pete comes scampering in with that curly-haired girl Darcy, and it's actually _way too many people_ for Lucas right now.

“Doc,” Lucas gasps, burying his face in a chest full of blue silk shirt and weird costume jewelry. “I want to go _home_.” Doc's hands are big and soothing as he pats Lucas's back and smooths his hair down.

“Doctor Strange, we can't let him leave here,” the man in the suit says, soft and gentle. “It was already hard enough keeping his existence hidden from the rest of the agency and the Avengers, but after this incident with-”

“You _knew_?” Thor roars suddenly, rounding on the man with fire in his eyes. “You knew all this time, and you didn't see fit to tell me? He is my brother, and I have _grieved_ him, Son of Coul, I have mourned him, and you _knew_ -”

Lucas needs to get out of there, he needs to get away from this- it's insane, these people talking about him like he's someone else, like he's not even there. Even Doc has let go of Lucas to argue against Thor and the guy in the suit, and it just.... He feels so _alone,_ despite the fact that it's so crowded he can barely breathe. Pete slinks up on Lucas's side and Darcy is with him, and Lucas looks at them, because they're looking at him.

“Is there any point in this where someone's going to tell me what's happening?” he asks softly, and Darcy straightens her shoulders and grabs Lucas's arm, pushing past Thor and Doc and Suit and dragging Lucas along with her.

“Right. _You_ guys are staying here to figure this shit out,” she says firmly, “I'm taking _these_ guys down to the kitchen to feed them.” On the way, Lucas learns Darcy's been hanging around the Avengers for nearly four years, since before they were even all together in one group. She sits him down at a barstool in the kitchen and sets a plate in front of him, and it's not just a sandwich but a _nice_ one, with like, _stuff_ on it. Lucas just stares at it for a minute, even though Pete's wolfing his down, his mask pulled up to reveal the lower half of his face.

“You gonna eat?” Darcy asks softly, and Lucas nods a little, but doesn't touch it. He's too busy _thinking_. He's too busy doing the _math_. These people don't just act like they suspect they've seen him before- they act like they _know_ him. And Thor called him-

“Loki,” Lucas whispers, looking up at Darcy for confirmation. “Thor called me that. Mysterio called me something else, but it means the same thing, right?”

“Yeah,” Darcy says simply, putting a glass of ice water in front of him. “They think you're Thor's long-lost little brother. Loki was... complicated. He made a lot of enemies, but in the end, he wasn't who people thought he was.” Lucas blinks at her.

“Did you... did you know him? At all?” Darcy gives him a tiny little smile.

“I think we were friends at the end.” She takes a sip out of his water; Lucas finds he doesn't really mind. “If it makes you feel _any_ better... it wasn't us who made Loki _disappear_ like that. There was a fight, and Loki was helping our guys, but he was saying a lot of... a lot of things I don't really fully get, even after all this time. And before the fight was over, this guy Odin showed up. He's... sort of Thor and Loki's father.”

“Ah,” Lucas says, then brightens up. “Well! Okay, this should be resolved pretty quickly then!”

“How so?” Pete asks, Darcy's expression a bit skeptical.

“I can't be Loki because Thor and I _don't even look related_ ,” Lucas says happily. “And Bruce said I'm _definitely human_ earlier, and dude, Thor's like, a giant from planet Asgard. So, clearly, this is all just a big case of me looking like somebody else.”

“...Lucas, first of all, Loki was adopted, he wasn't _really_ blood-related to Thor,” Darcy says carefully.

“...oh.” Lucas holds up a finger, but she waves it down.

“And Odin stripped Loki of all of his... everything. He made Loki a mortal human. It's something he did to Thor before, when I first knew him.” Darcy goes quiet, and Pete kicks Lucas's ankle under the table.

“So... Odin, this guy, he turns his kid into a normal plain human, and everyone thinks it's me because I look like the guy?” Lucas kicks Pete back, because what the heck. “Not that I don't think it's all really weird, but- look, I was in a hospital for a year, I was in a _coma_ , I had all these brain surgeries and stuff, and I had to use bedpans and everything. So if everyone thinks I'm Loki but they saw this guy turn him into a dude, like- what happened that put me in the hospital, then? Why didn't anyone come visit me there? How come Thor's acting like he didn't even know I was alive or _anything_?”

“Lucas, after Odin turned Loki into a normal human, he...” Darcy blinks, looking away. “He hit him. I don't just mean, like, a smack. He actually used some sort of magic spear named _Gangly_ or something, and he actually for-real _smote_ him. We looked for Loki and we _couldn't find his body_.”

“So you're saying... if I'm who you guys all _think_ I am, I'm Thor's adopted brother, and my dad tried to kill me into little pieces.” Lucas stares down at his sandwich and is not even remotely hungry. “And I don't have a... I don't have a past, I don't have _anything_ before Doc finds me on the side of the road somewhere upstate with my body all wrecked up and my head all bashed in. So probably... probably you guys are right about me, then?”

“Lucas,” Darcy sighs, leaning over the counter and ruffling his hair. “Remember _The Iron Giant_?”

“Yeah,” Lucas sniffles, leaning into the touch just a little. “S'good movie. I have the DVD.”

“You're the giant,” Darcy tells him, and Lucas gives her a watery little smile.

“You're the sexy artist dude, then,” he counters, and she laughs. Pete nudges him in the side, just a little.

“You still owe me ten bucks if you're really an alien god or something,” Pete informs him around a mouthful of turkey and lettuce. “In fact, if you're an alien god, I'm charging _interest_.”

“No way,” Lucas replies instantly, before clearing his throat and eyeballing Darcy. “So... so we were friends, right? You're saying... you and me were besties, at some point? I mean, Peeee- _Spider-man_ is my bestie now, uh, yeah, but, you know, I have lots of space for more besties if you want.”

“Not cool,” Pete hisses into his ear. “Secret identity is _secret_.”

“Not exactly besties,” Darcy admits, eyes sparkling in a smile, “but you're cute and you're a hell of a lot more normal than most of these assclowns around here, so I'll take it.” Lucas grins at her, and takes a bite of his sandwich. He's really, really grateful that she didn't make something he would have to navigate a fork with, because after the shock and emotions of the day he isn't sure how he feels about utensils.

He's actually feeling way better, and he can tell that Pete is, too, because Pete's doing that awkward thing he does where he tries to make a girl flirt with Lucas by doing all this stuff he read in a magazine article about being a good wingman. Darcy seems to know _exactly_ what he's doing, but she's grinning and not saying anything about how weird it is, so Lucas figures she's either the coolest person on the _planet_ or she must really really like them. Possibly both, because she's listening to Lucas's story about the time he almost got away with taking a duck home.

“-and I thought, you know, this could _work,_ right? Ducks need water, I have a bathtub, I can train it to use a litter-box and take it for walks and feed it snails or something,” Lucas is saying, and Darcy and Pete are laughing, so it takes them a few seconds to realize that Lucas isn't talking anymore and is just staring at Tony Stark, aka, _Tony Fucking Stark_ , who just waltzed into the kitchen with a cell phone cradled to the side of his face.

Pete thumps Lucas's back, mouthing the words _be cool_ at him, and Darcy is looking at him like she's got him all figured out, which she _ought_ to, now that she knows he has an Iron Man poster and a lunch box and an Ironette suit and every single action figure and several magazine articles about how _cool_ Tony Stark is.

Tony hasn't noticed everyone watching him yet, so Lucas actually thinks he might have a chance to think of something totally awesome to say to him, but then Tony hangs up his phone and stops and stares at Lucas, and _crap_. Lucas's brain is broken.

“So you know those costumes,” Lucas says suddenly, and Darcy's eyes are widening, not in the good way. “Those costumes from that, uh, that convention, expo, thing, from a few years ago, the Ironette-”

Pete slaps a hand over Lucas's mouth, laughing nervously.

“Luke's had a super long day, don't even listen to like a single thing he just said, haha, we're all cool guys here,” Pete says, and Lucas retaliates by jabbing him right in the ticklish part of his armpit.

“...alright, this is... surreal, I'm just gonna, yeah, hey _Lewis_ , how many times do I have to give you the stranger danger talk before you stop inviting people into my kitchen for snacks?” he grumbles, and Darcy actually throws a poptart at him and it bounces off his head. “That's only funny when you do it to Thor, you're totally fired.”

“Sorry, I answer only to a Missus Potts,” Darcy replies smugly. “Gorgeous, ginger, _taller than you_ , you've met her, right? She only basically runs every single aspect of your _life_?”

Lucas can feel his face freeze in the “I'm intruding and I don't know how to stop” smile. From what he can see of Pete's face, his friend feels the same.

“Um... so this is _your_ kitchen,” Lucas says, and looks down at what's left of his sandwich like it might be made of gold. “...wait, I'm eating _Tony Stark's_ salami?”

“Please god,” Tony actually shuts his eyes, breathing heavily. “Or, barring that, please _Carl Sagan_ , let this happen to somebody else, I haven't done _anything_ to deserve _this_.”

“Overdramatic much?” Darcy asks, and Tony scowls. “Seriously, Tony, you should at least introduce yourself to your guests. Pretty sure Pepper made you go to etiquette classes for a reason.”

“Alright, alright, hey, you two know who I am, Tony Stark, right, and you're- Peter Parker and, uh, what are we calling him, Darce? Loki, Lucas, what?”

“Rude!” Lucas blurts, patting Pete's back. “Your secret identity is safe with me, man.”

“Shut up, just shut your whole face,” Pete mutters, planting his head down on the countertop. Lucas blinks up at Tony, mouth open slightly.

“Wait, so- I can call you Tony? Really? Because that's what introductions mean if you don't give a title like Mister or Doctor or whatever, so- Tony, omigosh. And, uh, yeah, that's really cool, by the way, I mean that this is your kitchen, it's a _nice_ kitchen, I _like_ it, I mean, I like everything you do, haha, I was thinking, you and Thor should come over sometime, and me and Pete, and Pete's girlfriend could come too and we could watch movies-”

“Dude, stop arranging double-dates without consulting me,” Pete hisses, and Tony gives Lucas the longest, _weirdest_ look before shaking his head slowly.

“I... actually can't do this, alright. Darcy, code _green_ , don't let anybody disturb me, I'll be in my workshop,” he mutters, turning and fast-walking out of there. The look on his face before he goes- Lucas actually feels really _bad_ about it. Darcy, seeing Lucas's expression, sighs and ruffles his hair again.

“It's not you, it's him. He, uh... he's been having a hard time after a recent breakup,” Darcy says slowly, and Lucas doesn't know why, but he sort of thinks she's lying. Before he can call her out on it, though, Doc strides into the room and heads straight over to Lucas and Pete.

“Come along, you two. Everything's settled, and I'll be taking you home now.” He gives Darcy a polite nod, shooing Pete and Lucas out of the kitchen, and literally within a matter of _seconds_ there is a flash of light and Lucas and Peter are in Doc's living room, standing in front of the couch.

“Sit, relax. I'm going to call your Aunt, Mr. Parker, the two of you will be staying here tonight, for security reasons.” Lucas and Pete sit down at the same time, which would be funny if Doc didn't come back in after a few minutes and sit down in his big red armchair and fix the two of them with a really serious look.

“I think it's time I told you more of the _truth_ , Lucas,” he says, and he sounds really, really sad. Before Lucas can jump up and hug him again, a tall, intimidating man with an eyepatch and a goatee comes in and fixes his gaze on Lucas with a sigh.

“My name's Nick Fury,” he says simply, taking a seat. Lucas exchanges a look with Pete, wondering _when_ exactly his life became _this._


	7. Lucas Moves Up

Nick Fury looks straight at Lucas, something raw and uncomfortable in his gaze, before he finally speaks.

“I'm sorry,” he says simply, looking at his folded hands. “Nobody was _ever_ supposed to find out where you were, that you were still alive, we thought we could protect you-”

“Who's we?” Lucas interrupts, blinking. “Just you and Doc?”

“No, Lucas,” Doc sighs, looking so old and tired that Lucas wants to cry a little bit for him. “My friend, Mr. Murdock, has been involved since the beginning, as well as a few of Director Fury's most trusted agents. Agent Coulson, who you met earlier, is one of them. Bobbi and Jo,” he adds gently, and Lucas feels his eyes practically fall out of his head.

“Bobbi my boss?” Lucas gasps, hands over his mouth. “Jo who gives me cookies? They're really _secret agents_?”

“She's not supposed to be giving you cookies,” Fury frowns a little. “Her interaction's supposed to be at a minimum. And _you're_ supposed to be on a low-sugar diet,” he adds, which gets a snorting guffaw out of Pete. Fury glares at Pete, who wilts down against Lucas's side a little.

“I don't- I eat _so much sugar_ ,” Lucas admits, feeling monstrously guilty to have disappointed the man. “I ate an entire box of ice cream sandwiches before we went to the Avengers mansion today.”

“I helped,” Pete adds. Fury closes his eye, but there is the tiniest hint of a smile on his face.

“Lucas, you're not going to eat that much ice cream at once _again_ , are you?” Doc asks, looking slightly alarmed. “It made you physically ill afterwards.”

“I won't, I promise,” Lucas says, straightening his shoulders. “I'll eat some vegetables when I get home. And- okay, so _really_ , I'm Loki, right? Darcy told me already but I sort of figured it out a little bit before she did, but that's why you guys tried to protect me from people knowing, right? Because I was...” Lucas wrinkles his nose a little, looking over at Pete. “I was a super villain?”

“You're taking this remarkably _well_ ,” Doc says cautiously, exchanging glances with Fury. “It's alright if you're angry or upset with us, Lucas-”

“Naw, Doc, I love you,” Lucas says, surprised. “You were just looking out for me. All of you were. I'm really glad you let me just run around being normal for as long as you did.” Pete takes his hand and squeezes it. Doc and Fury both look shocked, which- okay, why? Lucas isn't _stupid_. He knows Doc and his friends- and, okay, this guy Fury, _obviously_ \- care about him, otherwise they wouldn't have gone to such lengths to make him safe and happy.

“Lucas-” Fury begins, leaning forward. He takes a deep breath, steadying himself. “You're a remarkable person, Lucas.”

“What do you mean?” Lucas glances nervously at Pete, who shrugs and nods. “I mean... Darcy told me that Odin, I guess, my _father_ , he took out all of the stuff that made me special before he... smited me? Did he leave some by accident?”

“The things that make you special were never his to take, Lucas,” Doc says firmly, in his Boss voice. “You're a kind, curious, intelligent young man with a wonderful heart. The things Odin took from you were unimportant compared to that.”

“Awww, _Doc_ ,” Lucas wails, and Doc comes over and buries Lucas in a hug, strong and careful and smelling like that weird aftershave Doc likes and also smelling a little bit like Clea. Lucas catches Fury staring when Doc finally pulls away, as if he doesn't understand or believe what he is seeing. Lucas sniffles, curling slightly against Pete's side and letting his friend snake an arm around him.

“Lucas, when you...” Fury massages the side of his forehead, looking exhausted. “When you first showed signs of waking up, in the hospital, we didn't know what to expect. We didn't think we had a right to hope that you'd open your eyes and be free of the demons that had haunted you before.”

Lucas doesn't know what to say to that, doesn't even know what to _think_ , his eyes casting for something to look at and focus on until they settle on his cane.

“I was a super villain, and I was a _crazy_ super-villain?” he asks finally, and Fury sighs.

“I think the word I would use to describe it would be _tortured_ ,” he mutters, shrugging a little at Doc's pointed glare. “Yes, Lucas. You did some terrible things, and you were held responsible for those things. But you also tried to make up for it, and you did good things in the world. In the end, you weren't just an ally. Thor had his brother back, and most of us considered you a... friend.” Fury's eye slides away from him on the last word, and Lucas blinks.

“Clint didn't seem to like me, at least at first,” he says cautiously, and Fury nods.

“He had good reason not to trust you, Lucas. But he's twice had to learn that you're no longer the person your circumstances made you, and he's forgiven you before now. You have to understand, when he realized that you were alive, he most likely assumed that you had retained your memories, and that you'd hidden yourself from the team. You had been welcome in their home. You still _are_.”

“I don't-” Lucas shifts uncomfortably, unable to look up. “I don't _want_ to move. I _like_ my apartment. It's... _mine_.”

“It will _remain_ yours, Lucas,” Doc tells him, and Lucas _hates_ that tone of voice, it's the _you might never be able to regain full function_ voice, it's the _I just don't want to see you end up disappointed_ voice. “But... Lucas, it may be best, for your safety, to take the Avengers up on their offer.”

“They didn't offer anything,” Lucas says, and he can hear his voice shake a little. Pete sits up, giving Lucas a reassuring squeeze.

“I could stay with Lucas at his place. I can protect him if something happens,” he offers, and even though Lucas appreciates the warm look in Doc's eyes as he glances towards Peter, he _knows_ that Doc's going to remind them that Pete was there at the aquarium, too.

“Secret identity isn't all that secret if the bad guys keep showing up where you live, though, Pete,” Lucas says softly, and Peter bristles a little at that.

“I'm not the one they're apparently _after_ , Luke-”

“Mr. Parker,” Fury says, lacing his fingers together. “Would it be better if you had access to the mansion and to Stark Tower? Not _full_ access, mind you, but enough that you could come and see Lucas whenever you want?”

“I- I guess,” Pete says cautiously, his mask wrinkling up by his forehead where Lucas knows his brow is furrowing. “But we go out to dinner with MJ every week and we hang out with my Aunt all the time, we can still _do that_ , right?”

“We'll see,” Fury sighs. “May have to assign bodyguards for trips out of controlled areas-”

“But my _job_ ,” Lucas catches himself whining, and it's not attractive by a _long_ shot. “And school. I've got to go to school. I can't _not_ attend class, what if I miss something important?”

“We'll see,” Fury repeats, which is frustrating as hell. “You'll still have a job once this blows over, and I'm sure Thor is more than willing to pay tuition for your classes. That's the best I can give you right now, Mr. Blake.”

“I understand,” Lucas says miserably, hanging his head a little. “But I don't _want_ to go there. I don't know those people, they don't know me. But you think all the supervillains are gonna come after me, like- I dunno, Magneto?”

“Probably not Magneto,” Doc reassures him, but that's actually disappointing because Lucas likes mutants. “Lucas, to this day we're not really sure who you contacted or worked with in your old life, but even if you hadn't been involved with some of those people, you are still a target for many unsavory people in the world now.”

“Oh,” Lucas says, closing his eyes. He just wants to sleep, he knows this will look like a better idea by the light of morning. He hears Fury's sharp intake of breath, and doesn't know what to make of it at first, and then he _does_ and it just makes him feel _worse_. “M'm tired,” he mumbles, sounding apologetic even to himself.

“It's okay, Luke. Um, are we... sleeping out here, or-” Pete begins, and Doc sighs.

“There's a guest room Lucas uses just down the hall, Mr. Parker.” Peter scoops Lucas up into his arms, as if Lucas weighs nothing, and _wow_ , okay, to Lucas's mind it's really the first time it truly sinks in that his very best friend is actually Spider-man.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

_Falling and falling forever._

“ _He fell.”_

_Burning hands, clawing through his head- someone is screaming, enraged, and he sounds so, so familiar._

“ _No, Loki.”_

_Gloved hands around his throat, or is that a collar? He can't breathe, he can't think. It's all the same to him, it's all the same thing._

“ _Nothing left for him.”_

_A bearded man's mouth, turning away from his to press a bristly kiss against the corner of his jaw. It's nice, though, it's actually-_

“ _All I ever wanted was to be your-”_

_So cold, and empty, and it hurts, and he wants to scream._

“ _Teach you a lesson, teach you to behave.”_

_Hip bone shatters, skin shredding off most of his chest and stomach, head snapping back, everything goes black._

“ _Lucas.”_

_A flash of light on gold, a rushing noise, and a landscape covered in snow and ice._

“ _We should not be here.”_

_His arms, but they're so big around, they've never been this big, his whole body feels off, feels wrong, and he lets an arrow fly. A woman yelps, hands clapped to a throat that is gushing red, so much blood, and there's screaming in his ears._

“ _Lucas!”_

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Pete is shaking him awake, and he feels like his brains have been scrambled.

“Knock it off,” Lucas mumbles, and Pete stops shaking him but he's still holding him too tightly for Lucas to move away.

“ _Lucas_ , are you-” Pete breathes out a sigh, pressing his forehead against Lucas's. “You were having a _really_ bad dream just now. You sounded hurt, I thought-”

“I'm okay, Pete,” Lucas tells him, curling his arms around him. “Honest. Nothing hurts.”

“What was your dream about?” Pete asks, sounding hesitant, and Lucas frowns.

“Someone kept saying my name.” He touches Pete's shoulder, and his grip on Lucas's arms relaxes a bit.

“That was probably me, just now,” Pete admits. “But that was only at the very end, Luke.”

“I don't think I want to talk about it,” Lucas says softly. “It was all a messy blur, anyway. I don't know where it started.”

“You don't have to tell me if you don't want to,” Pete says softly, letting Lucas pull him down to be the little spoon. “It sounded really scary.”

“It was,” Lucas murmurs against Pete's hair, already half-asleep again. “S'fine, snugglebear.”

“Don't tell the Avengers you call me that,” Pete yawns, patting Lucas on the hand. “Bad enough you told Aunt May.”

“She agrees,” Lucas smiles, before sleep takes him back.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

It's two days later, and a bunch of guys in suits are carrying boxes full of Lucas's stuff into a mostly already-furnished room in the Avengers Mansion, while Lucas wrings his hands and tries not to get in the way. Pete's promised to come around after work, and Darcy brings Lucas hot chocolate and then sticks around to tell the secret agents where to put everything. She's just telling them where to put the framed Avengers poster when one of the agents strolls over with a small wooden box in hand, and it's _open_.

“Ma'am, what do we do with-” he begins, and Lucas snatches it in a panic, face burning up as he closes it and hugs it to his chest.

“It's private, it's so _so_ private,” he explains, looking at his feet.

“It's a little small to be your porn stash,” Darcy says cautiously, and Lucas blinks up at her, scandalized.

“It's not a _porn_ \- I don't have any stuff like that,” Lucas says, before his eyes widen a little at her smirk. “Not that there's anything _wrong_ with- I just, um, I don't. It's not porn. It's my...” He mumbles, and she leans closer, her curls falling around his shoulder.

“What was that, guy?” she asks, and he sighs.

“It's my... wish box,” he whispers, wishing he was somewhere else right now. Preferably in a deep dark hole. “It's a box, and if I want something, I write it down on a paper and then I put it in the box. And then every couple months I go and look to see if I still want the things I wanted. Like that time I wanted a bunk bed. Or the time I wanted to chop my legs off and get cyborg legs. Turns out I didn't really want that stuff, so, you know. It's a good thing to have.”

“Sounds like the kind of thing Tony should get,” Darcy muses, patting Lucas on the shoulder. “You know what, I'm sure these guys know how to put IKEA furniture back together, even if you lost the original instructions. Let's go see what the boys are up to.”

“The boys” turn out to be Clint and Thor, who both jump up from the couch looking awkward until Darcy yells at them to let Lucas play their video game with them before she runs off on an errand. It's... _weird_ , because Clint perches on the arm of the couch as far from Lucas as he can _get_ , and Thor practically _envelops_ Lucas in his arms as he places Lucas's hands on the controller and tries to explain which button does what.

“Press A-A-B-X-A-left trigger,” Thor encourages, “it will produce a combination move that will obliterate your enemies.” He winces when Lucas fumbles the buttons, too slow to make it work. “Try again, Loki. You will defeat Clint on the field of the virtual combat.”

“Thor-” Clint sighs, glancing over and making eye contact with Lucas. “Give the guy a break, he said he's never played before.”

“Nonsense,” Thor booms, forgetting that he's right next to Lucas's ear. “My brother's skill at games of dexterity is legendary! Loki is more than a match for you, friend Clint!”

“I, um,” Lucas squirms until Thor gets the hint, letting him up. “I'm gonna... I'll be right back. You go ahead and play this part, Thor?” He gives them a smile, which is returned only half-heartedly, but it's better than nothing. Lucas flees into the kitchen, hoping to grab some water or possibly a Darcy, and instead finds Tony Stark, hunched over a tablet and looking like he hasn't really slept or eaten since their awkward introductions the other day.

“Hi,” Lucas says, fidgeting. “Thanks for letting me stay in your house while all the bad guys want to kill me.”

“Don't mention it,” Tony grunts, and Lucas gets the impression he means _literally_. Lucas slides into a chair near Tony's seat, nibbling at his lower lip until Tony raises his head and gives him a bleary little frown. “...aren't you supposed to be playing with your brother and Clint? Darcy said something about that.”

“I- I can't,” Lucas shrugs, holding out his hands and wiggling his fingers for Tony to see. “I have stupid thumbs. And you gotta do all kinds of _thumb_ things.” Tony watches him, and he pulls his hands back. “And I don't think Thor _wants_ to know I can't do it,” he adds softly. “I guess the old me would have been a lot better at video games than _I_ am.”

“You were _always_ good with your hands,” Tony mutters, and Lucas blinks at him.

“What else was I good at?” he asks, more curious than anything else. Tony stares at him, his eyes red. Lucas feels... bad for him, which is _weird,_ because he's _Tony Stark_ , he's got _everything_. But he looks _broken_ , and Lucas just wants to _hug_ him. After a minute, though, Lucas squints. “You look like you're having an inner monologue. Want to make it an outer dialogue?”

Tony squawks a surprised laugh at that, and Lucas grins.

“You know what you were good at?” Tony shakes his head a little, smiling faintly at some private memory. “You were good at driving me up the _wall_. You were aces at taking things apart, and then letting me figure out how to put that shit back together, when you were being a little shit and then later when we were on the same side.”

“Aces,” Lucas repeats, beaming. “I _like_ it. _Now_ I'm aces at knowing what books people want, and also I'm aces at knowing where books go.”

“Yeah?” Tony asks, and Lucas nods, drawing circles on the tabletop between them. “Shouldn't say aces so much, it loses its charm. So... librarian, huh?”

“Yup. It's nice. Everything has a place where it belongs. Paperback Star Trek novels have their own shelves and farm animals have _their_ own shelves. Plus people are nice and quiet in the library, and I get to read a lot.” Lucas tilts his head at Tony. “Did I like coffee?”

“You _loved_ coffee,” Tony begins, warming up. “You and coffee were a _thing_. Truth be told, I was a little _jealous_ , because you loved coffee _so much_ and I-” Tony pauses, his mouth opening and shutting for a split second before he continues, “And I really love coffee, too, so obviously, coffee and I were a thing, too, and you practically stole coffee's love and affections from me, I was like coffee's jilted lover or something, haha, and-”

“I still love coffee,” Lucas tells him. “And you still love coffee. And you have a coffee maker. So maybe we can... drink coffee together sometimes, while I'm staying here? Then you can keep an eye on things and make sure I'm not running off to elope with your espresso machine.”

“Ahaha,” Tony half-whimpers, his face doing something complicated. “Are you- and you're- well this is just- you see, I don't actually do- I mean, ask Pepper, she- god, _she_ could tell you a few things,” and Lucas feels like he's about to get a headache.

“I didn't understand _any_ of those sentence fragments,” he says sternly, looking at the cupboards. “But I would like some coffee now, and maybe some snacks. Mr. Fury says I'm not allowed to eat sweets anymore,” he adds glumly, and Tony actually almost falls off the chair.

“Fury,” he repeats slowly. “Big black guy, eyepatch, goatee, trench coat? Nick Fury?”

“Yep,” Lucas nods, giving Tony the eyeball. “He's nice, so I don't want to disappoint him. Do you have apples? I like apples a whole bunch.”

“He's nice? Same Fury, right?” Tony demands, and Lucas grins.

“He's _so_ nice. He gives good _hugs_ , too.” Tony actually covers his ears at this point, shaking his head violently.

“I cannot actually hear another word of this. How about that coffee, kid? You still take it cream, no sugar?”

“Uh. Black, with sugar and cinnamon,” Lucas corrects, and their eyes meet. Lucas grins a little. “Try it, you might _like_ it.”

“...know what, I'll try it just to prove that I _don't_ like it,” Tony challenges, and his smile is a lot nicer in person than it is on TV.


	8. Lucas Wears Sweater-Vests

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Amora is a big bag of dicks and a sexual predator.

Thor brings his girlfriend over, a few days later. Jane Foster is a super cool scientist, and she looks at Lucas like she doesn't really believe him, which is... it's okay, really. Lucas knows who he used to be, so he gets that she probably knew, too. It's okay. Jane does warm up eventually, and the three of them plus Darcy end up watching all of the Toy Story movies in a row, because it turned out Jane was the only one who hadn't seen them all. Darcy gives Lucas cheesey-popcorn and toasted marshmellow Jelly Bellies, and it occurs to Lucas that SHIELD has been spying on him for a long time, if they know what Lucas likes to snack on while watching movies. Then again, there's always the possibility that Darcy is actually a goddess. A goddess who is queen of Beautiful Town.

Lucas falls asleep before the scene with the incinerator, curled against her side, and wakes up with a mouthful of her hair. It's a little awkward for everyone involved, but not any more awkward than some of the ways he's had to wake up with Pete.

Bobbi brings not one but three giant pans of lasagna, and also Agent Coulson- _Phil_ , the man says softly, _it's okay to call me Phil, Lucas_ \- and somehow they manage to get most of the Avengers up to eat dinner with them. There are giant salads and actually probably an entire bakery's worth of breadsticks and Lucas is wolfing down his third helping and pretending not to notice how quiet and thoughtful Thor is right now, or the way he's just staring at Lucas while he's eating. He's so busy not noticing that he _does_ notice Bobbi's hand drifting over Phil's, the glint of gold on their ring fingers, and he points accusingly at the woman he considers a friend, and a very good one at that.

“You're married! You're married? When did you get married?” he asks, overjoyed at the thought, and Bobbi smiles and Phil actually looks a little embarrassed.

“You're married?” Tony repeats, still picking at his first serving and looking totally confused about what's happening. “Since when? What about the, the cellist?”

“Agent Morse and I have been married for over ten years, Tony,” Phil sighs, but it's a good-natured sigh. “Ms. Potts and I know better than to talk about personal matters when you're in earshot.”

“Hey,” Tony protests. “So you're saying you guys were-”

“It was a joke that we both assumed you'd catch on to, after years of having us come over to your house for the annual Christmas parties,” Phil says dryly, and Lucas blinks down at his lasagna, grinning. Bobbi smiles, offering Lucas another breadstick.

“How's the food, Luke?” she asks, as Tony, Phil, and Ms. Pepper get into a gentle argument about the whole thing, and Tony somehow ropes Bruce into taking his side over it.

“It's the best, Missus M,” he tells Bobbi, and Clint elbows him in the side.

“Kiss-ass,” he grins, and Lucas grins back.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Lucas doesn't know, but he suspects Darcy has had a calming influence over Clint. Mostly he gets that impression from the fact that Clint sidles up to him one day while he's watching TV with a magazine across his lap, and gives him a candy bar.

“Darcy says you like sugar, and that she'll kick my ass if I don't start acting nicer to you,” Clint says shortly, and Lucas blinks.

“But Mr. Fury asked me not to eat sweets,” he says slowly, and Clint rolls his eyes.

“Kid, Fury's my boss and I don't do half the shit he wants me to do. One Butterfingers isn't going to destroy the man's trust in the world.” Lucas opens his mouth, then shuts it, hunching his shoulders a little.

“I used to be some kind of super-lying liar,” Lucas mutters, glancing aside. “I don't want to start with little ones.”

“Oh my god,” Clint sighs, taking the candy back. “Tell you what. We'll just tell Darcy I gave you the candy and we'll be square, right?”

“But that's a lie too,” Lucas says in a tiny little voice. “I don't want to lie to Darcy either.”

“Oh. My. God,” Clint growls, burying his face in his hands for a moment. “Are you even kidding me right now? Loki- seriously. You're getting all weepy because you don't want to disappoint someone over some fucking chocolate? You killed over four hundred people when you first showed up on Earth, and that was in, like, a three day period. You tried to kill your brother like six times. You're a fucking _mass murderer_ , dude. You can't cry over candy. Just... grow a pair already.”

Lucas blinks rapidly at him for a few seconds, all of the air mysteriously absent from his lungs. Clint stares at him for a moment, his mouth opening slightly.

“Hey, don't cry,” he says awkwardly. Lucas's lower lip quivers, and Clint reaches over and gently pats Lucas's shoulder. “Hey, look, no. You are a grown-ass man. What are you crying for?”

“Because you h-hate me,” Lucas tries really hard not to sob. “And I _deserve_ it.”

“Loki-” Clint grimaces, sitting down on the couch next to him. “Lucas. They told me you already knew that you were... him. Before. This isn't a surprise, is it?”

“I dunno,” Lucas says, pulling his arms close to his chest. “I didn't know I killed people. I thought I just... ran around being annoying and magical and blowing stuff up. Or maybe that I stole stuff. I dunno.”

“Ah.” Clint frowns, looking down. “Look, don't cry over it. I mean, yeah, okay, you're pretty much responsible for it, but really, most of the people who died were killed by minions or the alien army you were leading or the people you were mind-controlling.”

“I was mind-controlling people?” Lucas asks, horrified. “But that's-”

“Yeah,” Clint nods. “I was one of them. And I killed a lot of people for you when it was going on.”

“Oh my god, this is even worse,” Lucas wails, and Clint leans back a little.

“Hey, wait. No. Listen. We never really- part of it was that you were being controlled by other people, too,” Clint sighs, running a hand through his hair. “That alien army? Turned out they were just using you, too. We never really had a chance to figure it all out, but we knew you were there with them for months and months, and that you didn't really... sleep or eat, and you were all kinds of messed up. And we know what they did to you later, when they came back. So... you know, who knows how much of that was you, and how much of it was... them brainwashing you by beating the crap out of you and not letting you sleep for weeks and weeks.”

“What?” Lucas chokes out, hugging himself and gaping up at Clint. He's not crying anymore, per se, but he's also actually _terrified_. “But- okay, so... so really bad aliens made me kill lots and lots of people, and they beat me up, and then they left and then came back and beat me up even more?”

“Uh... yeah, basically,” Clint says, patting Lucas on the shoulder again. “Besides, we all have body counts. It's not... it's not something anyone's proud of, but it happens. Everybody's been compromised in one way or another.”

“This doesn't do a whole lot to make me feel better,” Lucas mutters, hanging his head. “Clint? I'm really sorry I controlled you to make you kill people. It makes me sad that those people died and that I violated you like that. I'm really, really sorry.”

“Ah. Yeah.” Clint folds his arms, shifting uncomfortably. “Well. Alright, then. Uh. So... what were you up to before I barged in here like this?”

“Mythbusters,” Lucas sniffs, and Clint grunts and stays with Lucas until they're done watching about all the ninja myths.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

“Hi, Thor. Hey,” Lucas says shyly, sticking his head in the door to Thor's room. He pauses, his entire face heating up as he covers his eyes and points his face away. “I am so sorry, Dr. Jane. I didn't think you'd- I'm sorry. I'll come back later. I'm really sorry, I'll just- yeah, wow, I should already be gone, I'm sorry-”

“Brother,” Thor sighs, letting Jane use the sheet to cover herself up, because he is a gentleman. But then he stands up and walks over, and Lucas sort of wants to just burn this sight out of his head now. “What troubles you at this time of night?”

“It's not- it's not important, Thor,” Lucas says desperately, hoping Thor doesn't feel the need to walk his big naked self any closer than it already is. “This is extremely embarrassing. I just- I just, I'll talk to you in the morning about it. I'm really, really sorry.”

“It's okay, Lucas,” Jane sighs from the bed, burying her face in Thor's pillow. At least she sounds about as mortified as Lucas feels. Somehow it's not really comforting, anyway. “I'll just... wait, while you guys take care of whatever it is.”

“Oh, no, it's-” Lucas back up into the hallway, but Thor follows him out there, ugh.

“Loki,” Thor sighs, and Lucas sneaks a peek. It helps if he just remembers to crane his head all the way up to look at Thor. “It is nearly one in the morning, brother. What is the matter?”

“Um,” Lucas feels so bad right now, because it's just... really stupid. “Well. I just... I was sleeping, and I had a bad dream, and I couldn't go back to sleep. I thought... but, I'm really sorry, Thor, I didn't mean to interrupt you and Dr. Jane, and...” Lucas winces as Thor leans down to wrap him up in a great big naked hug. Lucas tries to return the hug without actually touching any part of Thor, and mostly succeeds.

“You can talk to me about anything you wish, Loki,” Thor says into Lucas's hair. “What was your nightmare?”

“Well... um,” Lucas waits until he disentangles himself from Thor a little, standing back a little. “Mostly just... you know. Stuff. I can't really remember my dreams, but... you were in them, so I thought, you know, maybe I could just come over and see if you were okay.”

“What happened?” Thor asks gravely, and Lucas feels a little better thinking that Thor really cares about him, but then also kind of grossed out because he accidentally looked over when Thor spoke up.

“I dunno, just... I remember in the dream you got hurt or something, and...” Lucas trails off, shuffling his feet. “Clint told me that I kept trying to kill you when I was... before.”

“Oh, I see,” Thor says quietly, taking Lucas's hand. “Listen to me, please. You... are complicated. You have always been. But even in the darkest depths of your rage, Loki, you never succeeded in killing me. And I know that if you had ever _truly_ tried to do it, you would have succeeded.”

“That's kind of... grim,” Lucas points out, and Thor nods.

“It is the way of things. Or... it was the way of things. You are different in some regards, but,” he smiles, “in others, you are just the same.”

“What do you mean?” Lucas asks, and Thor ruffles his hair a little.

“You always used to seek me out after a nightmare, my brother,” he says, and they both grin a little despite the horrible awkwardness. Then Thor's brow furrows a little. “...for what reason, brother, are you wearing Captain America pajama pants and not those that bear my own likeness?”

“....uh,” Lucas says, blinking. “The Thor pants were all too big for me.”

“Ah. I shall have to rectify that,” Thor promises, and Lucas thinks it's time to go back to feeling horribly awkward again.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

It's another two or three days before the Avengers are called out to defend the Earth from something. Tony can't go, so they ask Peter if he can make a trip out to Missouri with Thor and Clint and Natasha and Steve and Dr. Banner, and Peter screams and is the happiest person in the world, right up until they tell him that they're going there to fight a huge guy the size of, like, two Thors, wielding a giant axe and calling himself, unsurprisingly, the Executioner.

Tony's gone off to fix something for Mr. Fury, so it's just Lucas alone in the mansion for a few hours. He passes some time reading, making himself a sandwich, and having an interesting but short conversation with the sassy British computer in the walls. He's just starting to think about breaking out a pack of cards to play Solitaire or something when a gorgeous lady he's never seen before walks in. She's wearing a SHIELD uniform and she seems a little lost, and Lucas feels an immense feeling like he should help her. (Why is she looking around like that? Since when does a SHIELD agent get lost? And since when do SHIELD agents just show up in Tony's house unannounced and uninvi-)

“Hi, can I help you?” Lucas asks, and she looks at him, startled. God, her eyes are so _green_ , and her hair is so big and soft and blonde, it's actually beautiful, Lucas really wants to touch it-

“You?” she asks, sounding surprised. “So it's true, then. You have aligned yourself with the mortals who protect this pitiful realm.”

“Ah, yeah,” Lucas agrees, nodding enthusiastically. “It's great. Hi. What are you doing here? Did you want something?”

(Nice ladies don't look at you like this. Nice ladies don't smile at you like this. She looks mean. Her fingernails are all long and pointy, that's against the uniform dress code at SHIELD. This isn't a nice lady.)

“I came looking for Stark,” she smiles at him, and his heart flutters wonderfully at it. Her dress is the same color as her eyes, and it's really lovely, although Lucas isn't sure why he feels so strongly like she should be wearing a uniform. “But I wonder if I might not achieve even greater deeds with a mage of your caliber at my heel.”

“Yeah, that- wait, what?” Lucas asks, but his body feels really slow right now, and he feels incredibly sleepy now too. “What do you- hey, listen, I think there's been a misunderstanding.”

She's right up against him now, backing him onto the couch, and Lucas is starting hear alarm-bells, not just _mentally_ , as she unbuttons his shirt and starts doing something with her hips that he doesn't want to do with someone he's not dating, but also _literally_ , as a wall is blasted in and Tony flies in, wearing the Iron Man suit and pointing his repulsors at Lucas, for some reason.

“Back off, Amora,” Tony snarls, his voice all robot-ey and cool. “Lucas, don't let her kiss you. Just back away from your little girlfriend so you don't get hurt.”

“She's not my girlfriend,” Lucas mumbles, and the lady grins up at Tony, sliding her hands up under Lucas's shirt. She freezes, her brow furrowing as she leans down and yanks Lucas's shirt up to look at his stomach.

“...what have they done to you?” she asks, looking up at Tony with a weird look on her face, almost like she's angry. Lucas tries to burrow back-first into the couch, the sleepy fog lifting a little. The lady seems... maybe a little less mean, but she's looking kind of horrified now, and that isn't exactly the reaction Lucas would like to see when random beautiful women tear his shirt off. “Loki? Why haven't you used your magic to remove all of this?”

“I'm not magic. I'm just a librarian,” Lucas explains, and she just stares at him for a moment before turning an icy glare towards Tony.

“Explain, Stark,” she snaps, and Tony sighs, but he doesn't lower his hands or put his weaponry away. Lucas is feeling increasingly uncomfortable with every moment that passes, but he supposes it's better than goofily thinking this is somehow _okay_.

“He's not the Loki you knew,” Tony says quietly. “Odin took his magic away, all of his memories, his immortality. Amora, just- just leave him alone.”

The woman's eyes narrow, and her hand clenches around a fistful of Lucas's shirt.

“The Loki I know,” she hisses, “would not want to live as this worthless shell.”

“That's really mean,” Lucas sighs, wriggling a little bit. “Amora? That's your name? You're really pretty. Please don't touch me anymore, I don't like it.” Amora looks down at Lucas, looking kind of sad but also more than a little disgusted.

“Surely this is some jest, Loki. Some scheme. It isn't funny anymore,” she insists, running a hand down his chest and frowning when he shudders back from her touch. “Loki, stop. You are mine. Don't you remember? Our youth, in Asgard? Teaching one another the ways of magic, the ways of-”

“Don't touch me anymore,” Lucas pleads, biting back the edge of hysteria. “Please go away. I'm sorry, but I don't remember, and I don't like this, I don't like you, and I don't want you to touch me anymore.”

Amora draws back from him, visibly shocked, before turning and pointing angrily at Tony.

“Odin did this, Stark? Odin turned my beautiful prince into this sniveling coward?” Tony doesn't say anything- Amora's let go of Lucas, she's standing maybe a foot away from him, and Tony lets a repulsor blast hit her, right in the chest. She goes flying with an angry snarl, and Tony chases after her. Lucas slides down to the floor next to the couch, feeling somewhat bewildered and more than a little insulted. The fight sounds... impressive. Certainly very loud, but soon enough Lucas catches Amora howling something about raising an army and there's a weird sound, and when Lucas peeks around the couch Amora's stepping into a weird, disc-like hole in the air and vanishing. It's silent for a moment, before Lucas pulls himself up and Tony turns to look at him.

“Is she my ex-girlfriend?” Lucas asks, fumbling to button his shirt back up. “Because, uh. Wow. I can see why she's my ex. Very mean girl, very... not respecting my personal space. Thanks, Tony. How'd you know I was in trouble?”

“Jarvis alerted me the second she breached the security,” Tony said, the armor folding itself up around him and packing itself away. “She's been known to use some sort of, uh, magical kiss thing to use mind-control on people, so it's a pretty good thing she didn't kiss you. She didn't, did she?”

“No way,” Lucas grimaces, not wanting to look Tony in the face right now. “That's... kisses are supposed to be special, like if you love somebody. Not for... creepy random people.” Lucas blinks, because Tony's entered his line of vision again, looking... normal. Rumpled, sure, but he sort of always looks like he just rolled out of bed when he's around the mansion.

“You're missing about half of your buttons,” Tony points out, and Lucas sighs. “Come on, let's get you a fresh shirt. I guess we really can't leave you alone here, huh?”

“Oh,” Lucas says softly, frowning. “That's... I guess. Okay. Yeah.” Tony strolls ahead of Lucas, and when he gets to his room Tony's already in his closet and pulling something off the hangers.

“...hey, Lucas? You realize all your oxfords are like, three sizes too big, right?” Tony calls out, handing a plain blue t-shirt over to Lucas and apparently waiting for Lucas to change into it. Lucas blushes and tries to give Tony the silent hint to go away. Tony doesn't get it, though, so it ends up being about a minute of the two of them staring awkwardly at each other.

“Um. Yeah, I know. I buy them that big on purpose. I know it's cheating, but I don't really... do buttons.” Lucas hugs the shirt to his chest, sitting on the edge of his bed. “It takes me forever to get a whole shirt buttoned up, so I just leave 'em buttoned. So when I have work or school I just pull one of these shirts on, and then I wear a sweater-vest over it. I have like _twelve_ sweater-vests, Tony.”

“I was... kinda wondering about that, actually, okay,” Tony quickly puts a sweater-vest back on its hanger. “Aren't you supposed to be practicing to get better at that kind of thing?”

“Yeah. Well... well yeah. It's just...” Lucas shrugs, looking down at his knees. “Just one of those things. I guess it doesn't really matter how much time it takes me to get ready in the morning, now, since I'm basically stuck here all day anyway.”

“Ah. Well... yeah, okay,” Tony says awkwardly, scratching his beard a little. Lucas sighs, looking over at him.

“I really want you to go somewhere that isn't here, so that I can change,” Lucas says, a little pointedly, but Tony winces and nods, walking out the door.

Lucas spends a long time just sitting and staring down at his hands before he remembers to put his shirt on, though.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Things get quiet, for a few days. After the Amora thing, half the Avengers seem to go out of their ways to fuss over Lucas, which gets really smothering really quickly. The other half either go on treating him like normal, or- in Tony's case- avoid him completely.

Because he really can't imagine another minute of Steve or Thor or even Darcy breathing down his neck, Lucas heads down to the labs and gives Bruce a tiny little smile and a wave before offering him a cookie.

“No, thanks,” Bruce says, which leaves Lucas in a really unfortunate position, because he wants the cookie, but he did tell Mr. Fury he would be good from now on. Lucas sighs and leaves it in an inviting spot on Bruce's desk, anyway. “How are you feeling? That thing with Amora looked pretty stressful.”

“I'm okay,” Lucas tells him, inching his chair closer to gaze at the meaningless babble of science and math on Bruce's whiteboards. “Sooo. You gave yourself superpowers, right? Do you think you could give me some?”

Bruce stops what he's doing to look over at Lucas, his gaze level.

“No, I can't,” he says simply, taking his glasses off. “Why do you want superpowers, Lucas? I thought you liked being normal.”

“I do. I did,” Lucas sighs, tapping his cane on the floor. “It's just- being normal is great when everybody else is normal, I guess. Amora doesn't seem like a very nice lady and all, but she had a point. I _suck_ because I'm totally _useless_.”

“No, you're not,” Bruce says firmly, sitting down so that he's facing Lucas. “And you don't suck. You know what _really_ sucks? Turning into an uncontrollable rage monster, hurting or killing hundreds of people, causing billions of dollars of property damage, and losing everything you care about, just because you wanted to prove that you were the smartest guy in the room. Perspective, Lucas.”

“That does suck a lot,” Lucas says finally, scrunching up his nose. “But being a category five on the suck scale doesn't mean my category two suck-storm is any less sucky.” Bruce nudges him, and Lucas sighs, looking down. “I just don't like being the weakest link. It's bad enough I'm stuck here and I don't get to do any of my normal things, but then I get left alone and attacked by crazy kiss magicians, and then nobody even wants to leave me alone for a minute in case it happens again. I'm a huge liability and everybody's acting like it's okay.”

“I know that feeling,” Bruce sighs, patting Lucas's arm. “I wish I had some advice, Lucas. I became less of a liability when I finally accepted that part of who I was, so-”

“Yeah, but see, that part of you is a guy who punched an asteroid in half once,” Lucas mutters, getting clumsily to his feet. “And I'm just some dork who wears sweater-vests. My inner demons are that I'm scared of heights and monkeys and dating. I don't _belong_ here.”

Bruce sighs, but Lucas is already walking out the door, and Bruce doesn't try to stop him.


	9. Lucas is a Prisoner

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, I'm sorry, did you want me to be nice to Lucas? D:
> 
> There are hints of some really horrible things in this chapter. The only things that are explicit would be references to Loki's mouth being sewn shut as a fairly routine punishment as a child and an adult, and creepy-suggestive violence at the hands of the Chitauri dude with the gross face. (The one who looks like the Mouthpiece of Sauron.)

“Again,” Natasha says, patient and firm, and because he really doesn't want her to be disappointed, Lucas pulls himself to his feet and plants them squarely on the mat.

“You're doing a really good job,” he tells her, giving her a thumbs up. “I feel like I'm already starting to learn about this self-defending-myself stuff, Natasha.” She gives him a flat stare, and the super slow blink she only pulls out when Clint (or lately, Lucas) is being ridiculous on purpose.

“If you would focus, you'd be better at this by now,” she chides, and Lucas ducks his head and rubs his neck a little. His hair's getting long again, and there must be something in the air here- maybe higher or lower humidity, who even knows- because his hair's getting wilder and curlier by the day. Darcy plays with it all the time, though, and that's awesome. Natasha's looking actually disappointed, though, and that's the opposite of awesome, her hurt expression twisting at Lucas's heart.

“I don't think I'd be very good anyway, Natasha. I'm not strong or fast or bendy, and also I'm super clumsy,” Lucas admits, his posture slipping until he's in his normal gangly slump. “I just... I mean, it's really fun getting to learn stuff from you, but... what's the point, I guess? If you're just doing this for fun, do you need me to try all that hard just to fail miserably?”

“Ah,” Natasha says simply, sitting down on the mat and gesturing for Lucas to do the same. He shuffles his feet a little before finding a comfortable way to curl up next to her, hugging his knees and feeling dorky in a pair of jogging pants that have never been jogged in. Natasha stares at him for a few moments, her eyes that dark sea-glass green that makes Lucas think secret, happy little thoughts.

“When I was young,” she starts suddenly, “I was a different person. The first time I killed someone I was nine years old. By the time I was fifteen I was responsible for hundreds of deaths. By the time I was nineteen I'd been the cause of almost twice the number of people you've killed here on Earth.”

Lucas goggles at her, unsure of how to respond to a confession or an accusation of this magnitude.

“Clint wasn't much older than I was, when we first met. But he saw in me the potential to be different, to leave a different mark on the world. I see that potential in you, Lucas. You are not the product of your circumstances- you have the ability to choose your identity for yourself.”

“That's really inspirational,” Lucas admits, scooting closer to her. “Who did you choose to be?”

Natasha blinks real slow again, but she's smiling, so maybe she doesn't think that was a dumb question. “I chose to be myself. I didn't let anyone else choose for me, and nobody forced me to do or be anything.”

“Is that why you and Clint are best friends?” Lucas asks, and Natasha dips one shoulder in a shrug.

“It's part of the reason. Clint and I have had many years to grow close to one another.” Lucas thinks for a moment, grinning shyly at her.

“Did you and Clint ever kiss?” he asks, and she shakes her head after a moment.

“No. Clint and I have never had that kind of friendship, and I'm actually in a long-term relationship right now, and have been for years.” Lucas gives her a happy little clap, sitting up straighter.

“I didn't know that! Who are you in love with?” he asks, and she squints a little at the wording, before offering a smile.

“You don't know her yet. She's a very private person. But she's very nice, and I like her.” Natasha raises an arm a little, and Lucas curls up against her side for what passes for cuddles in Natasha's world. It's really just leaning against her while sitting quietly, but it's almost like a secret that only Lucas knows, and he won't ever complain.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

“So Natasha tells me you're feeling a little better now,” Steve says out of the blue, startling Lucas. He was sitting quietly in Bruce's lab and reading before Steve came in to discuss something in quiet tones with the scientist, and hadn't noticed Steve's approach. Lucas puts his book down- Tony did give him a StarkPad to read on, but he has issues with making the touchscreen do what he wants, and he feels too queasy to tell Tony about it.

“I guess so? She told me about her and Clint being friends. It was nice, because, you know, Pete.” Lucas shrugs a little. “I don't feel all that bad about the Amora thing anymore. I'm not _totally_ sure, but I think she felt really bad about what she did and probably isn't likely to do it again.”

“...right,” Steve looks kind of conflicted for a moment, shaking his head a little. “Lucas, um, listen. I know you were thinking that this semester you'd start back with your classes again, but we've been talking, and we think, you know, this might not be the best plan for you right now?”

“Who's we?” Lucas asks slowly, picking his book back up and staring at the cover. “Because I don't remember being a part of this conversation. This conversation that you had about me. About my future and what I get to do. I don't think I was there, was I?” Lucas immediately feels bad for his tone, because now Steve and Bruce both look unhappy, even though Bruce is all the way over with his science things pretending not to listen.

“Well... the team,” Steve says, just as slowly, like he knows it's the wrong answer. “Your brother and Dr. Strange, and Bruce and Clint and Natasha. Our SHIELD liaisons and Director Fury and Tony-”

“Tony doesn't even talk _to_ me,” Lucas points out, hugging his book to his chest. “Steve, I just- I can't stay locked up in here like this. I can't. I need- I need stuff to do. I need to see people. You guys said you had to move me in here with you so I could be safe until the thing with Mysterio blows over, right? It's been months, it's pretty well blown over, isn't it?”

“Look... Lucas, I understand, I do,” Steve sighs, crouching down next to Lucas's chair. “When I talk about- before I was Captain America, I was skinnier than you are, I was sick all the time, and nothing drove me crazier than people thinking I somehow couldn't do things, or do the things I wanted to do. Bu- people thought they were holding my hand to protect me and keep me safe, and I felt like all they were doing was holding me back. And you're the only person I know who understands what this is like.”

“But you still won't let me leave,” Lucas says softly. “Because- because why? It's not safer in here, if bad guys want to come seek you out here, all the time, where you live, all public.”

“I know how it feels, Lucas,” Steve repeats. “But it is safer here. You're... look, Lucas, we're your friends, okay? We're not as close to you as Peter is, and we're not blood like Thor, but we still care about your well-being, you know?”

“I do know. I know that. And I trust you guys,” Lucas mutters, biting his lower lip. “But this is... I don't understand, Steve. Darcy doesn't have to stay locked up here. Jane doesn't. Why do I have to?”

“Lucas, please,” Steve sighs, scrubbing a hand over his face. “Can you just trust us on this one? It's for your own good.”

“...oh. Okay,” Lucas says, getting awkwardly to his feet. “Alright. I'm going to my room right now.”

“Lucas, wait,” Steve moves forward, putting a hand on Lucas's shoulder. “You're clearly upset, so I think we should talk about what's bothering you, okay?”

“No,” Lucas breathes out, inhaling shallowly through his nose because he suspects breathing any deeper might make him cry. “I- I know you're trying to be nice, Steve, but I need to be alone.”

“Lucas, I really don't think that's a good idea-” Steve starts to say, and a hand gently but firmly pulls back on his upper arm, releasing Lucas.

“He needs to be alone right now,” Bruce says, blinking behind his glasses. “Christ, Steve, don't force him into having this conversation.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Dinner passes in a blur. Bobbi and Phil come over to stay for the weekend, and Bobbi and Darcy spend most of it giggling together in some private girl-talk that they eventually lure Natasha and Jane into. Lucas isn't really sure what's going on, because he's too busy pointedly ignoring Steve and Bruce and Tony and poking ineffectively at his Cobb salad until Clint surreptitiously hands him half his peanut-butter and banana sandwich.

There's a sharp, stinging ache in his chest as he exchanges a grateful little smile with Clint, and it makes him feel both worse and better, and he doesn't even get why that is.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

_his heart is in his throat and he knows what is about to happen because it's happened before_

“ _It's for your own good-”_

_one hand gripping his jaw, soft child's fingers or callused adult hands, and always shaking, even as the other hand presses the needle against his lip_

“ _-please don't struggle, it hurts you when you struggle-”_

_it's because he was bad, it's because he spoke out of turn at a public function_

“ _-because you lack conviction.”_

_and he deserves it, because the pain is hot and fresh and familiar and doesn't hurt as badly or deeply as the expression on (brother/Peter/Baldur/Thor/Thor/Thor) the face in front of him, pale and sick and weeping openly as he sews his lips together_

“ _Just learn to behave, for once-”_

_icy hands running down his back and he can't pull away because they're everywhere, silent and invisible and sinking into his skin as punishment for his failure, he failed to deliver it to them, they brought him back to life and they gave him strength when he had none and he owed it to them to deliver it and he failed, he let his brother take it home and now and now and now_

“ _-make you long for something so sweet-”_

_one bright eye burning like white fire and it's love (father/Doctor/my King) he knows it's love because he was told so, but oh it hurts, it hurts and for one awful moment he doesn't know who he is, that bright burning gaze makes him forget_

“ _-for your own good, Loki, don't tear your stitches out again-”_

_a hand on his throat, thick fingers and too many thumbs, and a lipless mouth against his ear, razor teeth tearing at his skin until it runs hot and wet_

“ _Did you think that we would forgive your debt,” and he panics because he's trapped, because he can't run, “just because you have forgotten it?”_

_it's cold and he's falling and the noose is tightening around his neck, it's cold and the noose is snug against his throat, there's a knife in his hand and instead of cutting the noose he stabs his attacker in the back but he can hear Bobbi shrieking at him, and it's_

“ _-even I don't know what it does.”_

_it's not his attacker, it's Phil, and Phil's dying_

“ _-his name is Phil-”_

_and he's trying to apologize, he's trying to put pressure on the wound so the bleeding can stop, but his hands are knives, his fingers are knives, he's just making it worse and the noose is so tight now that his vision is crowded with black and white starbursts_

“ _-your own good-”_

_and it's cold and he's falling_

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Lucas wakes up on the marble floor of his bedroom in Tony's tower, tangled in sheets that are soaked in sweat. He tears the sheets from his body, he rips the collar of his t-shirt as he pulls it off because it's too tight, he can't have it touching him right now. He scrambles, half-blind and bent nearly double, halfway across the room before his knees give out, and when he falls he simply crawls until he reaches the door to his private bathroom, and he's crying by the time he starts retching into his toilet.

“Master Lucas?” Jarvis asks quietly. “I'm letting your brother know that you're in distress. Do you need anything?”

“No,” Lucas moans, and he isn't sure if he means no, he doesn't need anything, or no, don't tell Thor. It doesn't matter, because less than a minute later, it seems, Thor's there with a glass of water for Lucas, wearing soft flannel pants and curling up next to Lucas and brushing the sweaty curls from his forehead.

“It was a bad dream,” Lucas tells him, and Thor nods, rubbing a broad hand against Lucas's bare back.

“I did bad things and I'm a bad person,” Lucas whispers, and Thor hugs him close and murmurs soft words of comfort into his shoulder, that he's not bad and that it's okay and that he's been forgiven.

“You were there and you were hurting me and I deserved it,” Lucas admits, and Thor clutches him tight against his chest and cries and tells him no, he didn't deserve it, not ever.

“Who's Baldur?” Lucas asks, and Thor starts sobbing into his hair and rocks him until they're both too exhausted to talk.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

In the morning Thor and Lucas emerge late for breakfast, but Bruce volunteers to make another batch of pancakes, just for them. They're blueberry, which makes Lucas feel _super_ healthy, and when Bruce puts a plate of cat-shaped pancakes down in front of him Lucas knows Bruce forgives him for yesterday _._ Lucas tears bits off and dips them in butter and syrup and listens as Thor tells him stories of a baby brother, one who spit up on Thor and pulled Loki's hair and was giggly and cuddly and affectionate. Thor smiles, revealing that Loki was Baldur's favorite and that the baby was always toddling around copying Loki, and that they were always getting into mischief together with Thor.

Lucas wants to ask Thor why he started crying last night, when asked about Baldur, but he's pretty sure he knows at least part of the answer.

Lucas and Thor help clean up, and while Lucas is rinsing the dishes for Thor to load into the machine Darcy comes over and gives both of them pats on the head.

“Heads up, you two. Agent Morse has something she wants to tell you, but it's a secret, so you have to promise not to say anything until she tells Phil, okay?” Lucas ducks his head a little, his stomach hot and twisting at a sudden memory from his nightmare, but he gives Darcy a smile and cranes his neck until he spots Bobbi lurking in the doorway with a huge smile on her face.

“Hey, Bobbi,” he chirps, and she comes over and ruffles his hair.

“Hey, sweetheart. I'm sorry that you and Thor are the last to know, but I want to surprise Phil with the news tonight, and you guys are not the best at hiding your emotions,” she explains, and Darcy smacks Thor's shoulder.

“Yeah, _this_ guy ruined the surprise when we threw a surprise birthday party for Steve a few years ago,” she gripes, and Thor presses a hand to his heart, but he's only pretending that his feelings are hurt, so Lucas grins a little.

“I beg your pardon, Lady Darcy, but no one told _me_ it was a surprise,” he says, and Lucas stifles a giggle at his tone. “And I have done a remarkable job of keeping the secret of Agent Morse's pregnancy, have I not?”

“What,” Bobbi says flatly.

“ _What_ ,” Darcy hisses.

“What! Omigod, Bobbeeeeee,” Lucas squeals, throwing his arms around her. “Really? Really-really?”

“Yes, Lucas, really,” Bobbi hugs Lucas tightly, smooching his forehead. “Thank you, darling. Thor, that was the secret. How did you- did Jane tell you last night?”

“Nay, I was with Loki much of the evening,” Thor says quickly. “And I have known for four weeks, milady.”

“...but I only found out about it a week- okay, nevermind,” Bobbi sighs, letting go of Lucas and rolling her eyes. “Well, I'm telling Phil tonight and it's going to be a big surprise, I've had Natasha and Clint and Darcy running interference for days.”

“He knows there's a surprise, he just doesn't know what it is,” Darcy adds, tugging on Lucas's arm. “That's where you come in. Lucas, you and Thor have a very important job, okay?”

“Are we going to take him to a seedy bar to get super drunk?” Lucas asks, eyes lighting up. “That was in a movie.”

“No,” Bobbi says firmly. “You and Thor are going to watch all of the Indiana Jones movies with Phil right now, and if he starts trying to talk to you about what's going on, start talking about traveling to the places in the movies.”

“What, all of the Indiana Jones films?” Thor asks, his brow knitting. “Is that necessary?”

“We don't know how long it's going to take,” Darcy explains. “We're trying to find Captain America booties.”

“Target,” Lucas supplies helpfully. “I've been. They're cute.”

“Vintage ones,” Bobbi corrects, “because he really prides himself on his collection of vintage Captain America memorabilia.”

“Ah,” Thor booms, patting Darcy's head and pretending not to notice her annoyed, catlike hiss. “Loki and I will complete this task, not out of enjoyment, but out of our love for you, dear ladies.”

“Also enjoyment,” Lucas adds, as Thor ushers him out of the kitchen. “I _like_ Indiana Jones.”

“Hush, brother,” Thor whispers, “these are negotiations. Now our friends will owe us a favor when it is time to go out and purchase more Pop-tarts.”

“Oh, Thor. That's really smart,” Lucas says, awed, and has no idea what to do when Thor actually picks him up and twirls him.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

“So what's this really about?” Phil asks, good-naturedly enough.

“Ho, brothers! I should very much like to travel one day to the Great Pyramids of Earth with you!” Thor booms.

“Um, what?” Lucas asks, his face heating up. He looks down into his empty popcorn bowl, shaking it so that the unpopped kernels make that neat noise. “Oh, looks like we're out of popcorn, I'll just-”

“Allow me!” Thor jumps up and snatches the bowl, his Starkphone already cradled in one hand as he heads towards the kitchen. Lucas gapes after him for a moment, before turning a horribly awkward smile towards Phil.

“Lucas, is Bobbi trying to plan a surprise birthday party for me?” Phil asks pleasantly. “Because last time? Did not go very well.”

“Uh,” Lucas folds his hands in his lap. “So. No? I mean, maybe, I don't know, but-”

“Lucas, it is probably a better idea all around if you tell me,” Phil confides. “Actually not all that fond of surprises. I get enough of that in the workplace.”

“Oh, uh, I dunno, I just- you know you're kind of my hero, right?” Lucas asks suddenly, refusing to look over at him. “Not like- I mean, I wish I was you, a lot of the time? I'm sorry, that's weird. I don't mean to sound weird. I'm not trying to be weird, I just, because you're not- you're not like-” Lucas shrugs, sinking down lower into the couch, trying to disappear.

“It's alright,” Phil says, his voice calm and soothing, and Lucas hears, lurching up out of last night's dream, _you like this?_

“No,” Lucas mutters, curling his arms around himself. “I mean, I know. I mean, you're just really cool, and everybody knows it. I feel so stupid sometimes because everybody else has this idea of who they are and who they used to be and all I- all I know is that I'm me but I wish I was more like you. It never bothered me, not knowing what I came from and what I wanted to be, and I know now and I just have all these questions, and I feel lame and useless and you're like... you're the opposite of me without being unattainable?”

Lucas chances a look over at Phil's face, which is its usual unflappable, unreadable expression. “So when I- so when I say-”

“I know what you mean,” Phil breaks in, before Lucas can get himself all ramped up. His smile is subtle and his eyes are kind, and Lucas thinks _score one for team Bobbi_ , because _damn_. Phil doesn't look like it bothers him that an amnesiac former god considers him a role-model. Lucas thinks Phil is going to make a great dad.

“I really do want to tell you,” Lucas admits, “but I promised Bobbi I wouldn't and I love her like a lot.”

“That's alright, too,” Phil sighs, leaning back into the couch. “Do you really have your heart set on watching the rest of this movie?”

“No, the movie was her idea also,” Lucas tells him. “Do you want to watch Honey Boo Boo? Pretty sure it's on right now.”

“Oh my god yes,” Phil says quickly, and Jarvis, being considerate, changes the channel for them.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

It goes like this.

People just start, all at once, pouring in to the room. Jane curls up at Thor's side and Steve and Bruce enter together. Natasha slinks in with a brunette, their fingers laced together, and Clint shambles in with Darcy on his back. Pepper and Happy and Tony's friend Rhodey amble into the room, followed by Agent Jasper and Mr. Fury and a bunch of other agents, and still Phil doesn't get it, even when Bobbi comes in all aglow and hands him a giftwrapped little box.

Phil opens it and stares at the booties and he _still_ doesn't seem to get it, until he picks up the booties and there's a pregnancy test underneath.

“Oh,” he breathes out, and then all at once he's picking Bobbi up and dancing with her in the most extravagant display of emotion Lucas has ever seen from him, ever. People are clapping and cheering and Lucas sees Tony in the doorway, and Phil sees him, too, and they exchange nods before Tony's gone again.

This kind of ruins the happy, because what the hell, Tony. So Lucas kisses Bobbi and Phil on the cheek and asks to be excused, and of course they're okay with it. It takes Lucas a while to get to the elevator, and because Jarvis knows this kind of thing he asks Jarvis if it's a good idea to start a small herb garden in his room and how big an herb garden has to be to grow pineapples because pineapples are delicious. Jarvis thinks it is a good idea but maybe pineapples can't happen, which is a little sad, but Lucas likes having a Librarian Buddy anyway.

Lucas is talking about maybe watching Astroboy with Jarvis because the movie makes him sad and he really likes Bill Nighy and also Love Actually and maybe they should have a Bill Nighy Appreciation Movie Marathon, when he notices that Jarvis is being awfully quiet and he's actually on the floor with Tony's lab now, which reminds Lucas that he came down here to tell Tony to stop being antisocial and to give Phil a hug, gosh.

Tony's music is loud, loud enough that Lucas can hear it all the way down the hallway, and a few steps closer and Lucas can hear Tony cursing.

“-the _fuck_ , Jarvis, don't fucking dim my screens when I'm _using_ them, Jesus-”

And that really makes Lucas angry, because Tony should love Jarvis, he shouldn't be so mean to him, and he actually marches down and barely leans on his cane at all and he gets to the huge, seamless wall of glass that operates as the door to Tony's lab, and then he stops.

He stops because Tony's screens are up between him and the door, and Lucas can see, backwards, what Tony can see- lots of moving images, more than two dozen, that all look like Tony stole them from security feeds, and they're all of Phil, walking around or talking to Pepper or Steve or Bruce or Tony, which is... which is weird, and kind of serial killer, but speaking of serial killer, one of the screens- one of the biggest- shows something really scary.

It shows Phil with a great big gun taking a step forward, and then there's a terrifyingly huge knife sticking out of him, and then Lucas is behind him in the picture-

-no, not Lucas, it's Lucas but he's dressed up and he's not skinny and limping and oh, okay, it's old Lucas, it's Loki and-

-and so it wasn't just a bad dream, was it? It wasn't just Lucas in the night facing an irrational fear of hurting someone he likes and cares about. It was a memory, Lucas did that, he stabbed Phil in the back and stepped over his body and-

“Lucas, please go back upstairs,” Jarvis says, and the screens go dark again and Tony is cursing again, but then Tony sees past the screens and meets eyes with Lucas.

Lucas backpedals, because the look on Tony's face actually makes his stomach drop down past his knees, and he can't stop thinking, _I did that, I hurt Phil, I did that and I hurt him and it was real and I did that_ , and he doesn't quite notice Tony stalking through the door at him but he does notice Tony's hands, gripping his arms.

“Lucas,” Tony says, his teeth bared, and he smells bad, like a bar. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“I saw- and-” Lucas stammers, his words failing, his knees liquid and weak. “I remembered- that happened, I was there-”

“Shit,” Tony hisses, his eyes narrowing a little. “What do- what else do you remember?” He leans closer, his breath hot against Lucas's skin, his mouth against Lucas's ear. “You remember this?”

_Did you think we would forgive your debt?_

-and blood running down his neck, his ear a tattered wound, an inhuman hand on his throat, sliding down onto his chest-

Lucas gags and shoves Tony away, he wants to faint but his body won't let him.

“That was you,” he says, but there's something wrong with him, because the words are coming out in a ragged half-scream. “That was _you_?”

“What?” Tony asks, and he looks confused and he smells bad and Lucas turns and he really doesn't want to take his eyes off Tony but he has no other choice if he wants to get all the way back to the elevator. Tony grabs his arm again and Lucas screeches and it sounds like don't, and Tony lets him go.

Jarvis closes the door behind Lucas and it starts moving, and Lucas curls up in the corner.

“Do you need me to get-” Jarvis starts, and Lucas feels cold all over, like he's never been warm.

“No,” he chokes out, and gulps down some air. “No. Don't- don't tell, Jarvis, I don't want to ruin it for-” Lucas feels like his skin is moving, like it's too tight, like he wants to just claw it all off and start over raw.

“Can you c-call Pete?” he asks, taking deep breaths and failing to calm himself down. “Can you- just- I need Pete, I want to go to my room, don't tell Thor because he's- no, just, Peter, please.”

Jarvis is quiet for a long, long time. Finally the elevator stops and Jarvis opens the door and it's on Lucas's floor, the one he shares with Thor and Jane, and Lucas takes off his shoes and shirt and has to ask Jarvis to turn on the shower super hot, and Jarvis tells him when Pete lands on his window and Pete knocks before he comes in and Lucas just looks at him for a moment, sitting in the tub with the shower running in socks and wet jeans.

“I wasn't crying,” Lucas says hoarsely. “It's just raining on my face.”

“Okay,” Pete says, putting his mask on the sink and reaching over to turn the shower off. “That happens sometimes. You want to put some dry clothes on?”

“I want to go _home_ ,” Lucas says, and he starts crying, and the shower's not on anymore so he can't pretend he wasn't.


	10. Lucas and Bravery

Other than a few texts to Bobbi claiming a headache- true, by the way, after all that crying- Lucas doesn't see or talk to anyone but Pete for a couple of days, not even Jarvis or Thor. On the second night Bobbi comes in and sits on the edge of Lucas's bed and gives him a book, _The Wind Through the Key-Hole_. He just looks at it for a minute or two, unable to meet her eyes when he finally speaks.

“How come you ever forgave me, Bobbi?” he asks, and she puts her hand on his hand and squeezes.

“I didn't want to, at first. But you tried so hard to make up for the things you'd done, and there were...” She swallows, looking away. “There were circumstances, things we didn't know about until much later. I'd met you a few times, but I didn't know you too well. When I did see you, you bore a lot of mental scars, the kind of thing you'd grown so used to that you didn't know that you had to hide them anymore. And you threw yourself into everything you did- you were working with SHIELD and with Tony to try to recreate the Tesseract so they could try to change the world.”

“I worked with Tony?” Lucas asks, frowning. “Did he hate me back then?”

Bobbi gazes at him for a moment or two, stroking the hair away from his face.

“I thought you two were dangerously alike,” she says finally. “You were both passionate and intelligent and possessed of a terrifying self-destructive streak. Neither of you would sleep for days at a time, and you'd only crawl into bed if Bruce and Jane forced you to.”

Lucas ducks away from her touch, hunching his shoulders. “I can't imagine being smart enough to help Tony with anything like that,” he mutters, looking over at her. “Bobbi? Before, when I... remembered stuff. Did I ever? Make it up, I mean. Did I ever make it up to anyone?”

“You did as much as you could in the time you had,” she reassures him. “You had plans to help millions of people with the process of rebuilding the Tesseract, and on a personal level, yes, you tried to make up for everything you could. You were able to help us in a few _unique_ ways, medically. You were still working on it when your- when we thought you were killed.”

“When you thought Odin killed me,” Lucas says flatly. “My and Thor's dad.”

“Yes,” Bobbi agrees, watching him. “You were talking to Steve about his experiences with the Tesseract, when something clicked, it seemed. You ran off to Germany with Tony to do more research, and you had just come back to check out a few things when Odin blasted down from the sky on that huge mutant horse. The sky went dark and Tony said that as soon as you saw him, you just... started attacking him.”

“Why?” Lucas asks plaintively. “Why would I _do_ that? He's my dad.”

Bobbi goes quiet, gazing out the window for a moment before speaking.

“I don't know Dr. Strange as well as you do, Lucas, even though we are very good friends. Can you imagine Stephen hitting a small child hard enough to knock some of his teeth out?”

“What? No!” Lucas gasps, turning to look at her. “Of course not!”

“Can you imagine Stephen finding out your greatest fear and then forcing you to live through it for days?” she persists, and Lucas draws back a little, horrified.

“Doc would _never_ do that to me,” Lucas says, his eyebrows furrowing. “Bobbi, what-”

“Can you imagine him forcing you to hurt Peter, someone you love and care about, simply to teach both of you a lesson?” she asks again, and Lucas shakes his head violently.

“He wouldn't do those things,” Lucas insists, his heart thudding in his chest. “Even if he wasn't a good person who wouldn't do any of those things anyway, Doc loves me. He wouldn't do that stuff to me.”

“I know, sweetheart,” Bobbi sighs, curling an arm around his shoulders. “You're right. Stephen Strange would never, ever do those things to you, and he loves you. But darling, those are things Odin did to Thor when you were kids, and those are just the things I know about, the things Thor's trusted me enough to say out loud.”

“Oh,” Lucas says, after a moment, and cuddles up against Bobbi because otherwise he might cry. “I don't get it, Bobbi. Thor's nice.”

“Thor's very nice,” Bobbi agrees, carding her fingers through his hair. “I imagine you had a lot of reasons to be angry at Odin at the time, Lucas, but I don't know if you or I will ever really find out why you felt the need to do that.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Phil and Bobbi go on a vacation- not a very _long_ one, because they like their jobs- but Mr. Fury says if they don't he'll make them very, very sorry, and also says something about babysitting the X-men. Lucas mostly tries to spend time with Thor, even though he doesn't know what to say or do, but mostly Thor's okay with just being in the same room as Lucas, the two of them curled up with books or with Jane tucked in between them on the couch watching TV.

When they're alone, Lucas pokes Thor's foot and asks him, “Did you ever sew my mouth shut?”

Thor freezes up, and after a long time he finally responds, “Sometimes.”

_Jesus_ , Lucas thinks.

“I know,” he says, after getting his brain together. “I'm not mad at you and I still love you. I hope you're not still sad about it.”

“I am,” Thor replies quietly. “Because once I _wanted_ to, and you never trusted me after that.”

“I trust you now,” Lucas points out, prodding Thor's foot again. “And from what I do know, I'm pretty sure I trusted you again by the time I stopped being old me. If that helps.”

“...it does,” Thor says, and Lucas puts Labyrinth on, because right now they need David Bowie in tight pants.

The next day, Mr. Fury and Darcy come up to Lucas's room early in the morning and knock on his door until he crawls out of bed and stares at them in a sleepy haze.

“What,” he yawns, and Darcy grins.

“We have a mission for you,” she says, and Lucas perks up immediately.

“Like a secret mission? Like a secret mission for SHIELD? Like a thing secret agents do?” he asks all at once, and Mr. Fury quirks an eyebrow at him.

“Would I be here if it wasn't that kind of mission?” he asks, and Lucas gasps and Darcy has to help him pull his shirt and jacket on, because he has a million questions and Mr. Fury refuses to answer any of them until the three of them are piled into a SHIELD-issue car together.

“With both Agents Morse and Coulson on extended leave right now, we're a little short-handed for some of our less dangerous operations,” Fury says gravely, and Darcy nods. “So you're recruited on a temporary basis to do a few of these missions. Do you think you can handle it?”

“Gosh!” Lucas says, glancing over at Darcy. “I mean, sir, yes, sir!”

“Good. Your first objective is to provide cover for me while I perform surveillance on a local athlete that we suspect is a mutant,” Fury tells him, and Darcy drops them off at a field where a couple of community college teams are playing baseball. Lucas makes it all the way through his hot dog before looking over at Fury for a minute.

“I didn't know you liked baseball,” he says, and Fury shrugs.

“I played a little here and there. Was never very good,” he adds, and Lucas has to stifle the mental image for a moment.

“I'm guessing this was mostly Darcy's idea,” Lucas tries, digging into his popcorn.

“Actually, Agent Morse was the one who suggested we start taking you out of the tower more often. Agent Lewis _is_ the one who thought we should dress it up a bit,” Fury admits, stealing a handful of Lucas's popcorn. “Was going to let Barton and Romanov take you to a movie, but Dum-dum Dugan's youngest grandson is playing today and I thought, what the hell.”

“This is good, though,” Lucas smiles over at him. “I like hanging out with you. You're cool.”

“Damn right I am,” Fury agrees, tilting a paper cone at him. “Roasted almonds?”

“Sure,” Lucas says, taking a few. “So none of the athletes is a mutant?”

“Oh, no. Three of those kids are mutants,” Fury says, pointing them out. “That guy there is a telepath, but he has almost no training and therefore can't block out the noise of everyone else's minds enough to actually listen to a single one. That one over there, his saliva glands produce a very mildly corrosive acid.”

“How mild?” Lucas asks, fascinated.

“In two months he'll need a new toothbrush,” Fury sighs, rolling his eye. “And kid down in the outfield is totally hairless, which isn't necessarily a mutant thing, but he can make small, organic objects intangible for about thirty seconds at a time.”

Lucas thinks for a moment, staring at the players on the field. Finally, he says, tentatively, “It seems to me like a lot of mutant powers aren't really worth the grief.”

“Kid, you don't even know the half of it. We got a girl running around in a leotard and tights trying to be a solo Avenger named Squirrel Girl. Know what her mutant power is?”

“I... I don't think I can imagine,” Lucas says, baffled.

“She talks. To squirrels.”

Lucas and Fury watch the game in silence after that. There isn't a whole lot anyone can say to a revelation of that magnitude.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

“Are you absolutely sure, Lucas?” Bruce asks, watching Lucas peel his shirt off with a dubious expression. “There's nothing to indicate any of this would actually help you, or that you'd like it.”

Lucas flattens himself on the table, his face resolute. “I read on the internet that it relieves tension and opens you up for healing energy. Doctors say it works, and it might help, because, you know, I'm not originally human, anyway.”

Bruce is quiet for a moment, tinkering for a bit. “Alright, Lucas, but you're going to have to hold still.” Lucas shuts his eyes and that lasts for about thirty seconds before he rolls himself off the exam table and curls up in a ball.

“I don't like it! I don't like it!” he calls out, and Bruce sighs heavily.

“Lucas, I hadn't started yet,” he says, putting the needles away. “And now I'm not going to. What on earth made you think I was a competent acupuncturist?”

“Science?” Lucas asks, peeking over the table and pulling himself up once he was sure that Bruce wasn't going to be jabbing anything into him. “I don't know, you seemed like you picked up a lot of skills when you were running around by yourself. Also I guess I figured that if I said it and made a big deal out of it, you'd teach yourself. And you did! Yay, Bruce.”

“Lucas,” Bruce says in a warning tone, but he's smiling. “Are you afraid of needles or something?”

“Nah,” Lucas shrugs, pulling his shirt back on with a little bit of a struggle. “I got used to them in the hospital. It's just- it's different. The nurse does it, she's putting something in you or taking something out, and you know what it's for and what it'll do. But then I thought about trying to move around and also Pinhead.”

“I told Clint not to let you watch that movie,” Bruce mutters, and Lucas gives him a sharp look.

“I picked the movie out and he volunteered to sit with me,” he says slowly, frowning. “You know I'm an adult, right? I can drink and everything.”

“I know,” Bruce sighs, and he tries to smile and it comes out tired. “How are things with Tony?”

Lucas tenses, casting a glance over at Bruce to see if he knows about it, to see if Tony _told_ him. Bruce catches his expression and blinks.

“Why?” Lucas asks, and Bruce moves half a step closer.

“Lucas, did something happen?” he asks, and Lucas feels his stomach drop and his mouth twist into a grimace.

“No. It's not- no. Don't touch me,” he adds, because Bruce is getting too close for this moment, and Bruce always knows to back right off when Lucas needs him to. “Just. Tony hates me, right? And I don't like him when he's drinking, which is pretty much all the time. So I don't want to talk to him anymore.”

“That's okay,” Bruce says, his brow furrowing slightly. “Although I do want to point out that Tony doesn't actually-”

“I know he's your best bestie,” Lucas interrupts, scuttling towards the door. “But when he touches me it's like I'm having my bad nightmares while I'm awake.”

“When he touches you,” Bruce repeats, eyes narrowing. “ _How_ does he touch you?”

“Oh god, not like-” Lucas scowls, because he doesn't exactly like that people keep making that assumption. He looks at the ground for a moment, then, briefly, puts his fingertips against the side of his neck, the corner of his jaw, ghosting against an earlobe.

“I have bad dreams,” he reiterates slowly, “and sometimes it turns out I'm remembering things. And Tony got up in my space and it was like that. And I don't want to talk to him anymore because it makes me feel bad.”

“It's okay,” Bruce tells him, putting his glasses back on. “You have every right to be angry, Lucas. Tony should know better than to violate your personal boundaries like that.”

“Yeah. Okay.” Lucas looks at his shoes, then at Bruce's shoes. “Thanks. For that. And also thanks, for not being weird about, you know.” He gestures vaguely at his torso.

“Nothing to be weird about, Lucas,” Bruce says, very quietly but not a whisper. “You can always talk to me.”

“I know,” Lucas says, and there's a huge empty hole between them, so he flees.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

It's actually kind of beautiful out, when the sky opens up to herald the end of Lucas's world.

It's warm enough that Lucas and Natasha are wearing shorts in the park, amusing themselves as they watch Clint and Pete throw a frisbee around. Both of them are shirtless in the early summer sun, and Natasha has a pair of vanilla cones that she plans on sharing with Lucas when they hear- when they _all_ hear, everyone in the park, maybe even everyone in the city- a sound like the world shaking apart.

Clint plants himself solidly next to Natasha, and Peter, after making significant eye contact with Lucas, darts off somewhere to go change.

Clint's eyes widen, as the sky goes dark around a burning, kaleidoscopic rip in the heavens itself.

“Lucas, get out of here,” he says urgently. “Right now.”

There's no time at all to react, before the light solidifies into a person, into an old man wearing armor and an eyepatch.

“Loki,” Odin says, and Lucas flinches a little at the sound. “I've come to take you home.”

“That's not going to happen,” Natasha says coolly, and where she was stashing a gun, Lucas does not know. He does know that he doesn't like the way Odin's eye narrows as he takes a long, hard look at Natasha.

“I am home,” Lucas says, a little louder than necessary, but scared to let Natasha fall under any more scrutiny. “This is where I live.”

“It's not where you belong,” Odin says, sweeping forward. “Asgard is your home.”

“I don't know that it ever was,” Lucas says, frowning a little. “I don't know you. I'm _certainly_ not going anywhere with you.”

There's a long crackling roar of Tony's repulsors on the approach, and despite his feelings on the man inside the suit right now, Lucas is glad to see him drop down to earth, Steve in uniform and slung up against one side. Thor lands a few seconds later, Mjolnir in hand, his hair wild around his face.

“Father,” Thor says, moving to stand between him and Lucas. “What brings you to Midgard?”

“He wants to take Lucas,” Clint spits out. “And Lucas said no, so that's the end of that.”

“Do not stand against me,” Odin tells them, but his gaze is on Thor. People are clearing out of the park, and Lucas thinks he recognizes at least one SHIELD van.

“Please just calm down, everybody,” Lucas pleads, glancing around. Steve glances over, giving Lucas a nod.

“Lucas is right. This isn't a fight,” he says, in his Captain Voice.

“Then why am I greeted with a small army?” Odin asks, gesturing in a way that makes Lucas _feel_ small.

“It wouldn't be the first time a portal in the sky opened up and let in hostiles,” Steve says, directly to Odin, who doesn't actually talk to him. But he does turn and look right at Tony, taking in the suit.

“I recognize you,” Odin says, and Thor tenses up next to Lucas, and Lucas curls a hand around his elbow to remind him that he's there.

“Yeah,” Tony says, his voice distorted by the suit's filters. “Kinda hard to forget the last time we met, when you maimed your kid right in front of me.”

“You would be the consort to a god,” Odin sneers, and Natasha's the only one who doesn't look even a tiny bit surprised. “I see he holds no interest to you in this broken mortal shell.”

The sound that comes out of the Iron Man mask is dark and sounds like an animal, or like the Hulk on a bad day, and Steve puts a hand on Tony's chest, the way he does to Lucas when he's driving Lucas around in one of Tony's cars and stops suddenly.

“ _Rude_ ,” Lucas hears himself say, and because he still doesn't have a brain to mouth filter, he keeps on talking. “I'm right here. And I notice you brought out all the fanfare you didn't bring out last time. What's up with that?”

“Last time?” he hears someone hiss, but Odin's attention isn't on Tony anymore, so good. Nobody seems to want to let Odin leave the immediate area, and nobody looks like they remotely think they can stop him if he tries.

“You knew me,” Odin says, almost like he's accusing.

“No,” Lucas admits, shrugging. “But I can put two and two together. And you weren't exactly subtle.”

“No,” Odin agrees, peering down at Lucas. “Your mother weeps for you. I am going to bring you home to her, for she has seen your suffering here on Midgard and wishes to coddle you like an infant.”

“There are so many things wrong with what you just said that I literally don't know how to process any of it,” Lucas says, putting his hand in Thor's free one. “But I wouldn't say no to her coming to visit Thor and me.”

“You are coming to see her,” Odin states, and it feels like a commandment. “You alone. Thor is going to stay behind.”

“ _No_ ,” Thor says.

“You have no say in this,” Odin growls, and little pieces of static crackle all over Mjolnir. Thor glances down at it, and Odin smiles and it hurts Lucas's heart. “You forget that Mjolnir has a _higher_ master, boy.”

Thor looks so scared, and Lucas squeezes his hand until it hurts.

“This isn't a conversation we should be having,” he says quietly. “It would be better for everybody if you left us alone right now.”

“That is not how you address your king,” Odin says, just as quietly, and Lucas wants to hide behind Thor but he thinks Thor wants to hide behind him just as much.

“Alright, Vader,” Lucas sighs, and he's glad to see Clint's mouth try to crack into a smile. “You're still not the king of _me_ , though. Not here. You're just our dad and we don't have to do anything just because you _told_ us to.”

“It saddens me that your brother has seen fit to poison you against me,” Odin murmurs, and takes a step closer, way closer than Lucas likes having strangers. “Thor, are you really so heartless as to deny your mother what comfort she can seek from her living children?”

“Mother-” Thor starts, and he sounds like he might cry.

“Thor's _not_ the bad guy,” Lucas says, and he kind of wants to cry, himself.

“No, Loki. That would be you,” Odin says sharply, tilting his head. “I ended an interplanetary war and saved billions of lives. You failed to start two and killed hundreds. I showed mercy and ended a prison sentence- _your_ sentence- that would have lasted over a thousand years. You tried to fabricate reasons for your brother and his friends to overthrow my rule. I could have crushed the very life out of that wreck of a body at any time, and here you stand, defiant to my face.”

“You need to back the fuck off,” Tony snarls, his repulsors whining as he holds them at the ready, adding in an undertone, “Banner, where the fuck are you? Fine. Get your ass over here now.”

“You have _grown_ in your exile, Loki,” Odin says in a mocking tone, and Thor lets out a shuddering sigh and pushes Lucas behind him.

“Run,” he says simply, and swings.

There's a sort of meaty twanging noise, a lot like a cable being stretched to its limit, and the wind's knocked out of Lucas all at once, as a strong, wiry arm wraps tightly around and he's suddenly flying through the air.

“Pete,” Lucas coughs, clinging for dear life. “ _Pause_. Park it. Stop.”

Peter doesn't stop until they're up high, rolling onto a rooftop, and Lucas puts his head between his knees and tries not to vomit. Peter's gloved hands run through his hair and down his back, and they're shaking uncontrollably.

“I didn't know what else to do,” he says numbly, and Lucas snags a wrist and pulls him close.

“This is bad,” Lucas breathes out.

“Why the hell would he think you'd want to go with him?” Peter exhales, and Lucas peels up the bottom of his mask, kissing his cheek.

“You know I love you, right?” he asks, and Peter almost pulls away from him.

“Luke-”

“And I always will,” Lucas finishes, turning and looking back the way they came. “And Doc and Clea and Thor and all of them. But you're the one I'm with, so you get a goodbye kiss.”

“No, Lucas,” Peter says, grabbing his arm. “No. This is stupid, Lucas, _you're_ stupid. Didn't you hear what he was saying down there?”

“It's not forever,” Lucas says.

“It is if he _murders_ you,” Peter says fiercely. His mask is wet and Lucas is sorry for that. “Is that what you _want_?”

“He only _might_ murder me,” Lucas counters. “But he will murder some or all of them if they fight him, Peter. And then he'll take me anyway.”

“I can't lose you,” Peter tries to say without sobbing, and fails. “Don't.”

“Darcy says I'm the Giant,” Lucas murmurs, pulling Peter into a hug. “Sometimes you have to fly up and punch a warhead.”

“We can figure something out,” Peter insists, his voice muffled against Lucas's shirt. “Has to be something.”

“The Giant comes back at the end,” Lucas promises, and Peter clings to him and doesn't seem to want to let any space between them. There's a loud, booming crash back at the park, and Lucas and Peter both turn to look. There's smoke rising where their friends are.

“They'll never forgive me,” Peter whispers, and Lucas takes his hand.

“Tell them it was my choice, then.”

“I'll never forgive myself,” Peter adds harshly, and Lucas squeezes and Peter squeezes back.

“Bruce can help you. He's good people.”

They're both quiet for a moment, but only just the one, because the noises rising up from the park are scaring the crap out of both of them.

“Drop me close,” Lucas murmurs. “Not too close, though. I don't want to get hit accidentally by anyone.”

“Promise me you won't let him change you,” Peter asks, wrapping an arm around Lucas's waist. “I'm okay with you changing. Just don't let him be the thing that does it.”

“Don't let _this_ be what changes you, then,” Lucas counters, and gives him a peck through the mask. “Do it before I lose my nerve, Petey, and go and see if you can get Doc afterwards.”

There's a rush of air, and Lucas is pretty sure he left his stomach behind on the rooftop, and he has time to think that this was an awful idea, it was terrible, _take it back_ , and then he and Peter land and the trees are ablaze and Tony's in the suit and half of it has been ripped away, and he's struggling to sit himself up. Lucas stumbles over to him, because half of Tony's face is covered in red wetness.

“Sorry,” Lucas gasps, feeling sick again. “I'm sorry. This is my fault, I'm sorry-”

“The fuck it is,” Tony growls, before he actually focuses on Lucas's face. “What the hell do you think you're doing here? You need to get-”

“I'm going with him,” Lucas says in a rush, using his t-shirt to wipe the blood off Tony's forehead and pressing it against the shallow line of cuts there, “and I don't want to think that someone who hates me is dying in the act of protecting me.”

“I don't _hate_ you,” Tony says, grabbing his arm a little too roughly with a gauntleted hand. “Jesus, Lucas, I never hated you. I loved you, you were my-”

“I've had,” Lucas interrupts, “the most giant crush on you, from the very first time I walked past a magazine stand and you were on the cover being stupid and sexy and machiney. I don't want to TMI you but there was masturbation involved.”

“Jesus Christ,” Tony says, looking like he's not sure how to deal with this at all.

“You can't stop me from going. He's going to kill somebody if I don't,” Lucas concludes. He bites his lip, then reaches over and runs his hand through Tony's hair. “I've always wanted to do that. You use too much gel. Goodbye for now.”

“Wait- _wait_ , Lucas, goddammit-”

But it takes way too long for Tony to get himself to his feet, and for once Lucas is the fast one.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

“This is the stupidest fight I've ever seen in my life,” Lucas yells, his throat raw by the end of the sentence, and Odin turns to look at him, a bruised and dazed Thor staggering back. “I'm going with you, I'm going willingly, I just have one thing I want, alright?”

“N-no,” Thor says, blinking.

“And what are you demands, Loki?” Odin asks, as if Thor doesn't even matter right now. Lucas takes a deep breath, looking at his brother and forcing himself to smile.

“It's going to be okay, because I love you,” he tells Thor, who looks like his heart is stopping in his chest. “Okay, Odin. My only condition is that you leave them alone. You leave Midgard with me and you pretty much never ever come back.”

Lucas lifts his chin a little, and Odin smiles faintly.

“My little prince, you have finally grown a spine. Very well,” he says, wrapping a surprisingly gentle arm around Lucas's thin shoulders. “Heimdall!”

“No!” Thor cries, and the sky opens up and everything melts away into screaming, roaring light. Lucas shuts his eyes and the rush

_a flash of light on gold_

and the chaos are overwhelming

_cold, and empty, and it hurts_

and he grits his teeth

_and he wants to scream_

and it's over, his eyes are still shut but he's on solid ground now, and there are steady hands at his back.

“Welcome home, Loki of Asgard,” Odin says.

Lucas opens his eyes and sees the golden spires and glimmering perfection of Asgard, and the velvety purple vastness of the sky beyond.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To be continued, just not here! A big huge thanks to everybody who read all these chapters and especially if you left comments because ermagerd I love comments.
> 
> And hey, this is a terrible place to end a story, haha, sorry. But hey! You have Sif and the Warriors Three to look forward to~


End file.
